Now I know What Love Is
by Lethe
Summary: Harry and Draco become linked by an unusual object Harry finds in the Dursley's attic, and find themselves with an unusual craving for each other's company
1. Ring and Photo

Now I Know What Love Is-Chapter One, Ring and Photo

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Were I, H/D slash would be a reality and not a figment of my fevered imagination. That said, this story is slash. I make no money from it, and I own no rights to the characters I am using.

Harry sighed uncomfortably and glanced sideways at his companions. He squirmed in the leather seat, trying to relax and enjoy the ride, oblivious to the concerned looks that punctuated the conversation of his mates. He, Hermione and Ron were on the Hogwarts Express, speeding through the northern English countryside. Everyone had noticed how distracted he was, but no one had commented, figuring it to be the result of last years events, the death of Cedric Diggory and the rumoured reemergence of Lord Voldemort. The real reason Harry was distracted was the small objects secreted in his pocket, and he wanted another look at them. 

He got up abruptly and slid open the door to the compartment, stepping out into the hallway. Ron and Hermione looked at him inquiringly. Harry mumbled, "Want a drink.... going up front." His friends nodded and returned to their discussion of the possibilities for their new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. Harry slid the compartment door closed behind him and walked to the end of the corridor. Feeling less conspicuous there, he slid his hand into his pocket and drew out the objects he had been obsessing over. He clenched the first tightly in his hand and then opened his fingers, staring at it. It was a ring, platinum in colour and imbedded with a Greek key design all the way around. The other was a portrait, a daguerreotype, although Harry didn't know that. The sepia toned picture showed a young man, haughty and imposing looking. He had one arm propped regally on the back of a carved chair and was staring into the camera as though he had just been insulted by the photographer. He was absolutely beautiful.

Harry had found the objects in the attic of the Dursley's home, while being forced to clean it one hot summer day. He had no idea where they'd come from. None of the Dursleys were collectors of antiques, being of the opinion that newer was better, and more likely to cause envy among the neighbors. Besides, the picture and ring were inside a small leather box, stamped with a crest unfamiliar to Harry, and hidden among the rafters, making them almost impossible to see. He had opened the box and stood staring at the contents until Dudley's frustrated shout from below echoed around the roof. He then slid the objects hurriedly into his pocket, wanting to make sure they were not seen and taken away from him. The Dursleys may not have been antique collectors but they would have had the ring to the jewelers before you could say Muggle, and to Harry's untrained eye it looked expensive. Of course he couldn't wear the ring at home, and now that he was among friends and could do what he wanted, he had no desire to display it, preferring to keep it to himself.

He clutched the ring tightly in his fist and stared at the picture until an amused and rather weary voice from behind him made him jump. 

"My God, Potter, what are you doing?" said Draco Malfoy. Harry turned quickly to the sight of Draco leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyes half-lidded. "You're insane," Draco continued. "What are you hiding behind your back? Copy of Playwizard? Come on Potter, let me see. This should be good for a laugh." 

Draco stepped forward, trapping Harry against the wall effectively with the proximity of his body. He looked at Harry through lowered eyelashes and smiled in a self-satisfied way. He leaned forward even closer, placing one arm on the wall above Harry's shoulder and wrapping the other around his waist. Draco's hand snaked around behind Harry, and reached for his right hand, the one with the ring in it. The realization of what was happening hit Harry at that moment. He shoved his hand forward, intending to push Draco away. Instead his hand made contact with Draco's reaching fingers. Draco's palm slid over the top of Harry's hand, forcing the ring onto Harry's middle finger.

Time appeared to stop. Voices up and down the hallway, which had been so clear to Harry in the preceding moments, seemed to fade and become muted. The two boys stared into each other's eyes. Draco glanced down at their hands, still intertwined, and returned his gaze to Harry as though he couldn't take his eyes off him, taking in every feature as though he had never seen them before. Harry found himself unable to breathe. Well, breathing was overrated, anyway.

"What have you done, Malfoy?" he said, not accusing, only wondering. Draco sighed softly and began, "I-I think...".

At that moment, a loud bang issued from one of the compartments and the two boys returned to reality and jumped apart. Draco brushed by Harry, giving him one last bewildered look, and continued on down the corridor, entering a compartment where Harry heard the voices of his Slytherin friends greeting him, the low grumbles that were Crabbe and Goyle and the higher pitched sugary squeals of Draco's ever-present female admirers.

Harry returned the items to his pocket and returned to his own compartment, greeted by the concerned faces of his two best friends. His hand still burned from Draco's touch, and his breathing was ragged. He barely had time to sit before the compartment door burst open again and Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas tumbled in, shouting excitedly about a spell gone awry, Neville Longbottom's current mishap. Harry closed his eyes and wished he was alone in his bed in Gryffindor tower, with the bed curtains closed, his pajamas on and his ring in hand once again. 

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	2. Dream and Draco

Now I know What Love Is-Chapter Two, Dream and Draco

Draco Malfoy took his accustomed place at the Slytherin table for the Welcoming Feast, there in body but absent in spirit. After a few broken attempts at conversation, his fan club had left him alone, and he ignored or responded to the monosyllabic grunts of Crabbe and Goyle as he chose anyway. He picked at his food, wishing he could get the incident on the train with Potter off his mind. How did an honest attempt at Potter bashing turn into, to, THAT? He had barely wrenched himself away from Harry (_Harry? _his brain responded) before the desire to return had been almost overwhelming. And he was now uncomfortably aware of Harry's presence on the other side of the hall. He could, in fact, feel Harry's eyes riveted to him at this moment. Draco stubbornly refused to look up from the chicken leg he was contemplating and return Harry's stare. _Best not to get into it with Potter in the Great Hall on his first night back at Hogwarts_, his brain reasoned.

Across the Hall, Harry was having a difficult time following the thread of conversation around him. Hermione was lecturing Seamus about the Irresistible potion he had illegally attempted over the summer, and Ron was trying yet again to explain the fine points of Quidditch to Colin Creevy. Harry, being of little patience, had long ago given up in that regard. He had turned the task over to Ron, reasoning that if Ron could teach him chess, he could teach Colin Quidditch. 

Harry ignored his friends for the most part, preferring to watch Draco. Draco was currently waving one slim aristocratic hand at Crabbe in a "leave me alone" gesture. Harry remembered how Draco's hand felt, warm around his own, and the way the ring had looked on his hand when Draco forced it on his finger. He hadn't been able to get the encounter out of his mind. He coloured slightly, remembering the warmth and closeness of Draco's lean body. His musings were soon interrupted by the tapping of a spoon against a goblet, as Professor Dumbledore rose to make an announcement.

"Welcome back, everyone. I trust that you have had an enjoyable summer." He paused for a moment for a moment before continuing. "I would like to introduce your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the year," said Dumbledore in measured tones."Mrs. Arabella Figg." Everyone clapped as Professor Figg appeared at the high table. The loud clapping covered the sound of Harry's gasp as he recognized the neighbor who had so often babysat him when the Dursleys went out alone. Hermione, however, noticed the look on Harry's face, as she never missed a possible theory, conspiracy or subplot. 

"What's wrong, Harry?" she said. 

"Th-that woman," he stammered. "Sh-she's the Dursley's NEIGHBOR! What is she doing here?" 

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Harry, Hermione and Ron exited the Great Hall after the Feast, talking among themselves about the appearance of Arabella Figg. "What d'you suppose she's been doing, hanging about all these years?" said Ron. "You don't think she's in league with You-Know-Who, do you?"

"Don't be silly, Ron, I expect she would have brought You-Know-Who to Harry's doorstep if she were a Death Eater, not babysat for him," Hermione replied. "You were always safe at her house, weren't you, Harry? She never tried to hurt you in any way?"

"No", said Harry glumly, thinking of the 20 or so cats who were always hanging about Mrs. Figg. "I just-"

Harry stopped abruptly as Draco stepped past him. Draco, unable to ignore Harry any longer, had cast a meaningful look at him as he passed by and disappeared down a dark hallway. "Bathroom," said Harry vaguely, staring after him. "I'm sure there's one here somewhere." He turned and scurried off after Draco.

"Think we should follow him?" said Hermione anxiously.

"No," said Ron, shaking his head at Harry's sudden departure. "If he doesn't come along soon we'll come back and look for him, see if he's, er, lost or something."

Harry hurried along the gloomy passage, sure he'd never been in this part of Hogwarts before and wondering where Draco had gone. He turned a sharp corner and almost fell over Draco, who was leaning against the wall in unconscious imitation of his earlier pose on the train. 

"Potter," said Draco, "why were you staring at me all during the Feast?" 

"I, um..." said Harry articulately. Draco's glance dropped to his hand.

"You're not wearing the ring!" he said. "I, uh, I mean you had a ring on earlier, I mean I saw it on your hand, not that it matters or anything..."

"It's in my pocket," said Harry, reaching into his robes, not able to explain why he suddenly didn't mind if Draco saw the object of his obsession. He drew the ring out and held it up between them. The dim torchlight gleamed off the silvery metal.

Draco reached for the ring, taking it and sliding it onto Harry's finger again. Harry moved closer, and surprised himself by slipping his hand around Draco's waist, coming to rest on the small of Draco's back. Draco snaked his other hand up Harry's arm, stopping its journey to trace the outline of Harry's ear and his jaw. Harry shivered, flooded with strange sensation from Draco's gentle touch. There was a small voice in the back of his head somewhere asking him what the bloody hell he thought he was doing, but he managed to successfully ignore it. 

"I'm sure he went down this way somewhere," came a voice from somewhere close at hand. Draco looked into Harry's eyes, startled, and fled down a nearby passage in a swirl of black robes. Harry turned resignedly to meet his well-meaning friends.

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The young man's portrait fell out of Harry's robes as he was changing for bed. He looked at it for a moment and started to place it in his trunk for safekeeping. As he was doing so, he turned the picture over and noticed something written on the faded brown cardboard back, in an elegant scrawl. Augustin, with a date, 1850. _Hmph_, thought Harry, _must be his name_. _How come I never noticed it before_? 

He shrugged, burying the ring and daguerreotype in his trunk, and climbed into bed. "Night Harry," said Ron. "Night Ron," Harry replied. He lay awake for hours and finally fell asleep, a jumbled kaleidoscope of thoughts about the day's events following him down into his dreams.

When Harry opened his eyes he was no longer in bed. He was walking down an avenue of live oaks, beside a slow moving, night black river. It was peaceful, with a slight breeze blowing and a full moon overhead. "Bonjour, Harry," said a softly accented voice beside him. Harry looked around in surprise to find the young man from his picture walking beside him. "I am Augustin." 

"How did you get here?" said Harry. "Never mind that, how did I get here?" 

"You're dreaming, Harry," replied Augustin. "Much has changed between your time and mine, but that much remains the same. Dreams, if you control them properly, always give you what you want. And you wanted to talk to me. So here I am."

Harry didn't reply for a minute, so surprised was he by this turn of events. He had had prophetic dreams and true dreams and frightening dreams and the kind of dreams you can't comfortably think about during, say, Charms, but he had never had a dream that happened because you wanted it to. 

Harry, lost in his own reverie, blurted out the first thought that came into his head.

"How did your picture get into the Dursley's attic?" he said. "Oh never mind, that's stupid, how would you know where your picture's been for years..."

"Oh, but I do know," Augustin replied. "It was placed there by the witch who owned it, and the house, before she left."

"A witch lived in the Dursley's house?" said Harry. "That's quite surprising, considering they hate all things magical."

"No coincidence," said Augustin pleasantly. "Albus Dumbledore made sure they bought that house, just a few weeks before you were born. He was trying to protect the only living family of your mother. Considering Lord Voldemort's hatred for your father, combined with his hatred of Muggles, it's not a stretch to imagine that they would be in a great deal of danger. They needed the protection of a house guarded by magical enchantments. And you even more so, once you came to live with them."

"So that's why Professor Dumbledore has had me spend every summer with those awful people?" Harry said. "Just so I'd be SAFE? I'd have risked a thousand run-ins with Lord Voldemort just to spend my time with somebody who LIKES me, who wanted me around..." Harry was livid. Why couldn't they have magically protected some other house and sent him to live THERE?

"Not just to make you safe, Harry," replied Augustin softly. "To make you strong. You have known adversity all of your short life, but you have never known true defeat, not in your own heart. You passed every test that has ever been set for you. You could not have grown up with that kind of courage in the wizarding world. You would have been somebody's pampered child, spoilt from the beginning by attention and adulation. No better than your cousin, Dudley."

Harry grimaced, knowing it was true but unwilling to admit it. Deep inside, for the first time, he was feeling the tiniest bit proud of himself.

"I have to leave you now, Harry," said Augustin, turning away. I have other tasks for the night, and you have to get some restful sleep. You have other challenges facing you tomorrow," he said, winking. _Huh?_ thought Harry. _Other challenges?_ _Wait! I didn't ask him about the ring!_

"Wait!" said Harry aloud. "I need to ask you..."

But Augustin was gone, and Harry was falling down the black spiral of dreamless sleep.

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	3. Star and Spell

Now I Know What Love Is, Chapter 3-Star and Spell

Deep in the Slytherin dungeons, Draco was passing the night in wakefulness. The sheets and bed covers were knotted and twisted around him, testimony to his failed attempts to sleep. He had succeeded only in tossing and turning so much he had made himself hot. He was currently lying on his back with his hands behind his head, staring into the darkness above him, wearing only a pair of black drawstring pajama pants. 

Draco, of course, was absolutely NOT thinking about Harry Potter. He was not thinking about Harry's shy smile, his soft-looking messy hair, or indeed anything else Potter-related. Draco was not thinking about these things at all. And the effort of not thinking about them was killing him.

He sighed and rolled over in bed once again. He obviously wasn't going to get any sleep, so he reached for his wand and whispered "Lumos". He opened the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a small box, cobalt blue with a golden sun worked into the top. He opened it. Ten small globes of various sizes and colours were nestled inside. The box was lined with dark blue silk, scattered with what appeared to be luminous glitter. He pointed his wand at the contents of the box and murmured "Positus". The spheres floated out the box and formed a perfect scale model of the planets. The glitter floated around the planets, becoming constellations and star systems. They hung there, each with its own special glow, moving almost imperceptibly as they imitated the rotation of the planets in Earth's solar system. 

Draco lay back, one hand behind his head and one on his bare stomach, staring at the planets. The beautifully made scale model was one of his favorite toys. Truth be told, Astronomy was his favorite subject, not Potions. Professor Sinstra treated him like a human being and not a carbon copy of his father, unlike many of his other professors. 

He whispered "April 8th, 1980 C.E." and watched the planets align themselves as they had been on the night of his birth. His mother, who was as superstitious as a Muggle when it came to prophets and seers, had been told by a rather flaky astrologer that his birth date foretold the birth of one of great power and significance. Well, of course, what else was she supposed to tell a Malfoy?

Draco gave up on not thinking about Harry. He whispered, very softly, "July 31 1980 C.E." and watched the planets realign themselves to Harry's birth date. He pulled his hand from behind his head and buried it in his already messy blonde hair, wishing he wasn't longing for Harry so much. Gods knew he'd been trying to avoid the Harry issue for years. Torture Harry in public and refuse under any circumstances to be alone with him, way to suppress your feelings, Draco. And everyone thought he avoided Harry because he couldn't handle him and his poorly chosen group of friends without Crabbe and Goyle. Well, in a way that was true. Look what had happened when he had managed to be alone with Harry today.

He sighed again. The minute he met Harry, he knew his life had changed. Being so young, he hadn't realized then what was going on. He only thought that finally here was someone he might choose for a friend, someone like him, equal to him. It was only later, seething alone in his dorm about Harry's public refusal of his friendship, that he realized the truth. He wanted Harry. He went to sleep that night with fantasies of kissing Harry on his mind and woke up in the morning knowing he could never have him. So he contented himself with making contact with Harry the only way a Slytherin could. He annoyed Harry at every turn. Well, he'd certainly made Harry aware of his presence. Harry hated him.

Draco had been worried all summer. He was sure that when the time came to return to Hogwarts, either he or Harry would have been sent to the ends of the Earth, and he'd never see Harry again. Tonight wasn't the first night he'd been unable to sleep. He had left his compartment on the train today at the first opportunity, hoping against hope to find Harry somewhere. His relief at finally coming upon Harry was so great he couldn't help but find an excuse to get close to him, breathe the air that Harry breathed. He hadn't even cared at the time what Harry was hiding behind his back.

Draco raised his wand again and spoke. "Devexus." He watched the planets and stars settle themselves into their places in the box once more. The relief of finally being honest with himself about his feelings for Harry had relaxed him so much he thought he might actually be able to sleep. He murmured "Nox" and put his wand aside, turning over and wrapping his arms around one of the many extra pillows on the bed. The sound of Crabbe snoring like a dragon was almost soothing now, like white noise, and he fell asleep nearly instantly. 

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Harry looked for Draco as soon as he and his friends entered the Great Hall the next morning, but he was nowhere in sight. Head turned toward the Slytherin table, he almost walked into Ron's back. Ron was stopped short, staring at the head table. 

"Look, Harry, she's not there. Think she's gone already?" he said.

"Maybe he's sleeping in today," Harry replied. 

"He?" said Ron. "Who are you talking about? I meant Professor Figg." 

Ron was right. Professor Figg was nowhere to be seen. 

"She's probably gone back to her cats," Harry said. He privately hoped it was true. He didn't want to confront Arabella Figg about why she was at Hogwarts. As Hagrid had said last year, everything happened to him, and he was tired of it. He wanted to be left alone. 

"We don't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until tomorrow," Hermione said, clearly disappointed. "Are you sure you don't want to go straight to Professor Figg? It may be dangerous to wait. You don't know what's going on, Harry."

"No, I'll speak to her after class tomorrow," said Harry stubbornly. He fully intended to avoid the whole Figg problem for as long as he could, but he knew how persistent Hermione could be. 

"Well, talk to Professor Dumbledore, then," she countered. "What if he doesn't realize...?"

"No," said Harry, rather sharply. "I'll speak to her tomorrow, Hermione." Harry then turned to his breakfast, hoping Hermione would drop the subject. She, to her credit, began on her own eggs and bacon and left him alone for the time being. Ron started a conversation about the upcoming Quidditch match with Hufflepuff in an attempt to change the subject, and everyone's attention turned to other matters.

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"Transliteration," said Professor McGonagall, "is an extremely advanced and potentially dangerous form of Transfiguration magic. I expect you all to pay VERY close attention to the formulae and especially to the cautionary warnings associated with this type of magic."

Harry was attempting to pay attention as closely as possible, but he was lost. Transliteration, as explained by Professor McGonagall, involved creating a physical representation of an object from a written description. You had to Transfigure the words themselves into an image of the actual thing they represented. Transfiguration wasn't Harry's best subject anyway, and it all sounded quite dodgy to him. 

Hermione, seated next to Harry, was copying diagrams and symbols at the speed of light and looking extremely self-satisfied. No doubt she had memorized the theory over the summer and was itching to try it out. Harry privately suspected Hermione sometimes of finding a way around the prohibitions against magic performed by underage wizards. Nobody could possibly perform EVERY single spell, potion and charm perfectly the first time.

Harry decided to give up on Transliteration and get Hermione to explain it to him later. Daydreaming, he glanced out the window of the Transfiguration classroom. A group of Slytherins was passing by on their way to Herbology. Draco came into sight, talking animatedly to Goyle and Blaise Zabini. They both laughed at something Draco said and Harry felt a pang of jealousy. Draco then turned and smiled at Crabbe, one of the few genuine smiles Harry had ever seen on Draco's face. His pang of jealousy became a fire-breathing dragon of envy, complete with claws and teeth.

Draco's glance passed beyond Crabbe and fell upon Harry. His smile faded a little, and the strangest look came over his face. Energy crackled between them, almost palpable in its intensity. Harry's heart gave a great lurch and then seemed to stop beating altogether. Eyes locked, he and Draco stared at each other until Draco was out of sight.

Hermione had noticed Harry's inattention and was preparing to elbow him, when she noticed the looks he and Draco were giving each other. They were far from the usual looks of animosity and loathing Harry and Draco reserved for each other. Hmmm, thought Hermione, what was that about? She mentally shrugged and decided she would get to the bottom of the matter later. 

Harry finally turned his attention back to Professor McGonagall. Thankfully, she was drawing diagrams on the blackboard and hadn't noticed his inattention. Harry had lost whatever thin thread of understanding he had regarding Transliteration. He slumped in his seat, hoping McGonagall wouldn't decide to call on him in the last ten minutes of class.

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Draco, in Herbology, was grateful that the task they were performing today was simple. He was still shaken after his latest experience with Harry. Draco tried to clear his mind and return to helping Blaise harvest Blood Flowers, so named because of their deep red colour and the way they seemed to drip off their stems. He hoped desperately that no one had noticed that little exchange. The last thing he needed was for his Slytherin friends to discover that Harry Potter was anything but his worst enemy. They'd make his life unbearable, not to mention the fact that any one of them would take great pleasure in telling his father. Not that Draco wouldn't have been happy to torture any of his acquaintances if the situation were reversed. 

__

This can't go on much longer, thought Draco. He knew he would be seeing Harry in Potions later on and he resolved to find a way to talk to him.

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Snape droned on endlessly during Potions in his customary Gothic monotone. They weren't doing any practical assignments today and the air in the classroom was one of boredom instead of the usual atmosphere of anxiety. Even Longbottom looked fairly relaxed, Draco noted, although he appeared to be trying to hide behind Millicent Bulstrode, perhaps in case Snape noticed his presence and took ten points from Gryffindor for breathing. Draco had nearly gone over to sit close to Harry at the beginning of class. He was brought back to his senses by Pansy, who grabbed his sleeve when he passed and forced him to sit beside her. The only good thing about that particular seating arrangement was that it afforded him an unobstructed view of Harry. 

He watched Harry's robes tighten across his shoulders when he leaned over to pick up a dropped quill. He watched Harry's long graceful fingers rub the back of his neck. Draco licked his lips and wondered how he was going to be able to stand an entire year of Potions with Harry. Teenagers were notoriously horny; surely someone somewhere had invented an anti-Libido Potion. His luck, it would make matters worse and he'd be sneaking into Harry's dorm begging for a snog. Oh well.

Class was drawing to a close and Draco made a hasty decision. He tore off a piece of parchment and scribbled something on it. He then grabbed his books and hurried up to the front of the room before Harry could rise to leave.

Harry was startled by a loud thump as Draco knocked his Transfiguration textbook to the floor in passing. Draco picked it up and handed it back to him, smirking at Harry for the sake of the people left in the classroom. "Take it, Potter," he said. "Wouldn't want you to lose something that important, would we? You've got no one to owl for another, do you?" 

Draco turned and left. Harry, shocked by Draco's strange behavior, wondered if he wasn't the only one who appeared to be losing his mind. "Clumsy git," said Ron. "What the hell is wrong with him today?"

"I dunno," said Harry, shrugging his shoulders. Privately he wondered what was wrong with the both of them, himself and Draco.

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	4. Truth and Tale

Now I Know What Love Is, Chapter Four-Truth and Tale

Harry was lying on his side in his four poster bed in Gryffindor tower, engrossed in homework. He was trying to make sense of a three card Tarot spread, his first Divination homework assignment for the year. He groaned and said, "I'm either going to be attacked by the Whomping Willow, or I'm going to receive a message from an influential friend. I can't decide. Tell me again why we took this stupid class for the third year running?"

"I dunno, mate," Ron replied. He had gotten a pillow from his own bed and was lying comfortably, head and shoulders propped against Harry's back, reading his Potions text. "Gluttons for punishment?"

"Must be," said Harry. "Where's Hermione, by the way, never saw her in the common room at all tonight."

"Library," grunted Ron. "Didn't you notice? She swallowed dinner whole and took off as quick as she could. Didn't even stay for dessert. She must have a bee in her bonnet about something."

Harry hadn't noticed. Harry wouldn't have noticed if Hermione had sprouted wings and flown to the library. They had had ice cream for dessert that night, and all Harry's attention had been on Draco. Draco apparently loved ice cream. Instead of eating it like an ordinary person, he held his spoon upright and slid it over his tongue with an expression of exquisite pleasure, occasionally licking his lips. Harry could have almost sworn he was doing it on purpose. He had watched Draco's actions until he was so hot he thought steam would come out of his ears. Even Ron-the-oblivious had noticed, but thankfully he had misunderstood the reason for Harry's stare. He had gone into a long tirade about the evils of Malfoy in general, and the commotion Draco had caused in Potions today in particular.

Harry knew he needed to find a way to tell Ron and Hermione about what was going on between himself and Malfoy, but how? They were his two best friends, the only close friends he had ever had, and he didn't want to lose them. Hermione had faced every challenge he had ever encountered at school with him, from tests to fights with Snape to monstrous three-headed dogs. Even though he had had to face Voldemort alone three times since coming to Hogwarts, he could always feel her support. And his bond of friendship with Ron had become even stronger since their fight over the Triwizard Tournament last year. He decided to keep his recent encounters with Malfoy to himself for now. _There was nothing to tell anyway_, he reasoned.

Harry gathered up the Viscounti tarot deck he had borrowed from Professor Trelawney and rewrapped it in its purple cloth, laying it to the side. He picked up his Transfiguration text, preparing to try to puzzle out Transliteration with out Hermione's help, when a thought occurred to him. There WAS something he could share with Ron and Hermione.

"Gerroff, Ron," he said. "I have something I want to show you."

Ron sat up and Harry crawled forward to the edge of the bed, looking over it to search through his trunk. He pulled out the ring and the photo of Augustin, handing them to Ron. "What're these?" Ron said.

Harry proceeded to fill Ron in on the story of the ring, how he had found the items and the dream he had had of Augustin the night before, leaving out the "Draco episodes" of course. Ron's reaction showed a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

"So you don't have any idea who this Augustin character is, Harry?" Ron said. "Blimey, I don't like the sound of this. You'd better be careful with these things. The last time you "found" something like this it turned out to be You-Know-Who's diary. This ring, have you tried it on? Do you know what it does?"

"Well, uh, not really," Harry said. "But I'm sure the ring and the picture aren't, you know, evil or anything. Augustin seemed really nice, Ron."

"Yeah," replied Ron, "and he also seemed to know a lot about Professor Dumbledore's intentions. I think you should talk to Dumbledore himself about it."

Those were the last words Harry expected to hear out of Ron's mouth. He was usually game for any adventure, no matter how ill advised. Look at the flying car incident in their second year. The possibility of Voldemort's return had shaken him more than Harry thought. 

Harry was now regretting that he had ever told Ron about the photo and the ring. He knew if he spoke to any teacher about it, they would have at least the ring out of his hands and gone, and he wanted to keep it, if only to find out what it did. Harry was suddenly unbearably curious about what exactly the ring could do. The few "experiments" he had made with it-well, now was not a good time to think about how they had turned out. He came to a decision.

Ron had been in enough dangerous situations with Harry to read the look on his face. "No, Harry!" he said. "What if you put it on and can't get it back off? What if it's cursed? What if it kills you, or worse, what if it has an Imperious curse attached to it? You could be under anyone's control!"

"Ron," said Harry firmly, "I have to do this." 

Harry was suddenly struck by an extremely unpleasant thought. What if he put the ring on and it had the same effect on him and Ron as it had had on him and Draco? Ron would never forgive him.

He continued, "Just promise me one thing. If I start acting...strange...or if you feel funny in any way, promise me you'll jerk the ring off my finger. And for god's sake don't put it on yourself."

Ron nodded solemnly. "If you're determined to go through with this...I promise."

Harry held the ring up. For a second Ron could see one bright green eye framed in the ring's circle. Harry then lowered the ring and slipped it on his finger. 

His first thought was one of relief. Ron looked the same as he always had, good-natured freckled face, long nose, and spiky red hair. He was no more or less attractive than he had always been.

Harry then looked around at his bedroom. He was amazed. His sense of perception was heightened to the extreme. He looked at his bed hangings, and not only were they beautiful and functional, he understood how they had been made and the charms the house elves had used to keep them clean. These were things he had always known, but there was a difference between knowing and understanding, and Harry understood.

"Harry, Harry, oh my god, Harry, are you all right?" Ron Looked as though he were ready to lunge at Harry and jerk the ring off.

"I'm fine, Ron, I'm fine, my god, this is AMAZING!"

Harry's eye fell on his Transfiguration textbook. Ron watched him study the page as though he had never seen it before, and then a wide-eyed look came over Harry's face. It was as though someone turned a cartoon light bulb on in his mind. Ron watched him pick up his wand and aim it at Ron's Potions textbook. "Imago!" Instantly, a perfect three-dimensional image of a Unicorn horn appeared, one of the ingredients in the Vivifying potion Ron had been studying.

"Look what you've done, Harry, that was BRILLIANT! Hermione couldn't have done better. I don't think a single person in class today even understood that spell but her, and you've just performed it perfectly!"

Harry was thrilled and amazed but also a little frightened. He decided he had had enough of the ring for one night. He slowly drew the ring from his finger. He and Ron both looked at it, lying there in his palm, and then up at each other.

"How did you do it?" asked Ron. "Did the ring give you the power?"

No," Harry said. "It was...like I had the knowledge all along, but when I put the ring on...all the pieces fit together. I understood not only how the spell worked, but WHY. I've never felt anything like it."

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Harry was clearing off his bed, preparing to go to sleep. He picked up his books, laying them aside for the next day. As he picked up his Transfiguration text, a small bit of parchment fell out of it. Curious, he picked it up and unfolded it.

"Potter, we need to see each other privately.

Send me an owl tomorrow at breakfast and let

me know if you agree. I'll even let you pick

the time and place."

Malfoy

Harry felt his face grow hot. Quickly he stuffed the note out of sight under his pillow and hopped in bed, stomach churning with emotion.

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Harry woke up early the next morning. He dressed hastily and then sat on his bed in the grey half-light of dawn, listening to the soft breathing of those asleep around him and pondering what to write. He finally decided to keep it simple.

"Malfoy, meet me outside the entrance

to your common room at midnight tomorrow night.

I know a private place where we can talk." 

Potter

He grabbed his invisibility cloak and hurried silently from the dorm, making his way to the Owlery. He stopped to pat Hedwig, who blinked at him sleepily from her perch. "I have a note to send, but I can't use you," he told her softly, hoping she wouldn't be upset. She promptly turned her back on him. So much for hope.

Harry was looking around trying to decide which school owl to use, when he felt a soft nip at his elbow. Turning, he recognized Draco's eagle owl perched at his side.

"Oh, hullo," he said, debating on whether or not to give the owl a friendly pat. It was probably trained to attack Potters and Muggleborns on sight. He reached out and gently patted her feathers and was surprised when she preened under his touch. After he had patted her for a moment, she stuck out her leg, as though knowing his purpose and offering herself for the job.

"So you'll take it to him for me, then," he said softly. "No hurry, you can come during breakfast at the usual time."

He tied the note to her leg, patted her once more and left the Owlery to dress for breakfast.

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Harry sat at breakfast, not eating, growing more nervous by the minute. What if Draco read his note and refused to meet him? Or worse, passed the note up and down the Slytherin table? He'd be the laughingstock of the school. Thankfully, the mail chose that moment to make its appearance. Owls soared overhead.

Draco, too, was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mail, although he was much better at hiding his anxiety than Harry. His heart fell when he saw only his own owl flying towards him. She could only be carrying something from his mother and father. She wouldn't have anything to do with anyone else.

She landed beside him and he reluctantly untied the note from her leg. He frowned as he looked down upon an untidy scrawl that belonged to neither of his parents. Relief and shock flooded through his body as he looked at the front of the letter, which simply said "Malfoy." How had Harry managed to get his owl to bring him the letter? She was unresponsive at best to attention paid her by anyone but him or his parents.

He opened the letter and read it, read it again, frowned at Pansy who was trying her best to read over his shoulder. This is it, he thought. He's agreed to meet me alone. What do I do now?

Draco looked up from the letter and caught Harry's eye. He nodded once, in agreement, and Harry returned his nod. Butterflies formed colonies in his stomach. There was no turning back now. 

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Harry reluctantly entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and took a seat in the back of the room, slumping morosely at his desk. Hermione and Ron were not far behind. Hermione herself was extremely relieved that Harry was finally going to meet with Professor Figg. She had been worried senseless by Harry's recent behavior. He was moody and secretive all the time, and he was spending far too much of his time and attention focused on Malfoy. Hermione supposed that Harry was scared by the lurking fear of Lord Voldemort, especially since no one seemed to have any information about his whereabouts for the last three months. Harry had probably been staring at Malfoy and brooding about Voldemort, and no doubt Malfoy was taking every opportunity to aggravate Harry about the situation. She'd slap him again whenever she wasn't so busy with class work.

Hermione's musings were interrupted by the arrival of Professor Figg, who was not an ogre or troll at all but a short, plump, pleasant looking lady with greying hair pulled back in a bun. She greeted the class, and they set to work on something none of them had tried in DADA before; cloaking charms. Cloaking charms were designed to hide your magical presence, if you were in a dangerous situation where others could sense the magical aura around you.

Professor Figg had not looked at Harry once during the entire class, nor acknowledged his presence in any way. When it came time to choose someone to demonstrate the cloaking charms on, she chose Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. She didn't even look in his direction.

The bell sounded for the end of class. Harry considered gathering his things and walking out without speaking to Professor Figg, but one look from Hermione let him know he wasn't getting away with that. To his surprise, before he could approach Professor Figg himself, he heard her say, "Harry Potter, I would like to see you for a moment after class."

The rest of the class filed out the door, leaving Harry standing by Professor Figg's desk. Hermione and Ron were lurking in the doorway. Professor Figg smiled at them and said, "Your desire to stand by your friend is admirable. Don't worry, I'm the last person Harry would be in danger from. However, I need to speak to him privately. Would the two of you wait outside please?"

Hermione and Ron reluctantly left the room. Harry turned and faced Professor Figg. 

She smiled warmly and said, "I suppose my arrival has been a bit of a shock for you, Harry?" He nodded mutely. She continued, "Explanations are in order, then. That is why I've arranged a private meeting between my self, you...and Professor Dumbledore. Tea, Saturday, four o'clock, Harry, in Professor Dumbledore's office. Don't be late."

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Harry, cloaked in invisibility, left Gryffindor Tower at five minutes to midnight, sneaking silently toward the Slytherin dungeons and Draco. He stopped outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room and looked around for Draco. He finally pulled off his cloak, sure he was alone, thinking _damn him, if he's stood me up I'll kill him, especially since this was his idea. _

Draco stepped from behind a suit of armour, a silent specter of silver and black, scaring Harry out of his wits. "Startled you, didn't I, Potter?" he said, moving closer. "Um, no," said Harry, wondering why he reverted to a three year old's vocabulary every time he was alone with Draco. The word alone reverberated around in his head, and he realized that he was finally alone with Draco, and Draco was standing very close....

"Come on, Potter, where is this private place you supposedly know of?" said Draco. "I saw Filch wandering about a few minutes ago. I don't want to get caught and have to spend a night in detention cleaning the loo without magic or something."

Harry walked off without a word, hoping Draco would follow him without arguing. Amazingly, he did, and the two boys set off through darkened Hogwarts. Harry was preparing to turn a corner when he heard the sound of Filch's rusty voice. "Come, my sweet, I thought I heard footsteps down the Slytherin corridor. If there are students out of bed, we'll catch them, and it'll be detention in the chains this time, mark my words."

Harry stopped short, about to turn the corner, and then backed into Draco, almost flattening him against the wall. Hurriedly, he pulled the invisibility cloak from under his arm and hissed, "Here, put this over you." Draco complied and the two of them stood silently under the cloak in the dark, listening to sound of Filch's approaching footsteps. 

Harry could feel Draco, warm against his back, and was trying to suppress a new and rather frightening urge to rub up against him. Draco had his chin propped on Harry's shoulder, and Harry could feel warm breath on the side of his neck. He shivered involuntarily and felt Draco shudder behind him. _Bloody hell, Filch_, he thought_, go somewhere else. I can't take much more of this._

Draco, behind Harry, gave up on trying to find something to do with his arms and wrapped them around Harry's waist. We need to be as close as possible, he reasoned, this damn cloak is hardly big enough for the both of us. A little voice inside his head replied, _keep telling yourself that, Draco, and you might actually believe it._

Both boys stood as still as possible under the circumstances. Filch finally passed them and they turned their heads and watched his lantern light receding down the corridor, finally turning the corner out of sight. Harry decided not to move for a moment. _Filch could come back, _he thought to himself, _better stay here for a little while and make sure. _Besides, Draco was so warm, and so close, and it couldn't hurt to enjoy the feeling of being pressed up against him for a few more moments...

"Potter," said Draco, lips brushing his earlobe, "much as I enjoy the compromising situations we seem to be getting into lately, I think we'd better be moving along. Filch is probably all the way to the Astronomy Tower by now." 

Harry gulped and heat shot through his body at Draco's words. He tucked his cloak under his arm again and reluctantly moved away from Draco and started off again, Draco close behind.

They reached the massive double doors at the entrance to Hogwarts. 

"Potter, if you think we're going into the Forbidden Forest together again, you can forget it. There's no way I-"

"Shh," said Harry, placing a finger on Draco's lips. He opened one door just enough for the both of them to squeeze through. "This way," he said, motioning to Draco. They set off together down the wide, moonlit sweep of Hogwarts lawn.

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	5. Kiss and Secret

I need some distraction, oh beautiful release,  
memory seeps from my veins,  
let me be empty  
and weightless and maybe,  
I'll find some peace tonight-Angel, Sarah Maclachlan

Now I Know What Love Is, Chapter 5-Kiss and Secret

Deep in the craggy mountains of Bavaria, there sat a lonely house, overlooking a deep, glassy lake. Turrets and towers crowned the imposing black stone edifice. The house looked as though it had been deserted for centuries, but there was a fire burning in a distant parlour. A tall, hooded, cloaked figure paced evenly up and down the cold, stone flagged floor.

The figure stopped in his pacing to stroke the head of a huge snake, curled far from the heat of the fire in a chair in the corner. The snake's tongue flickered once, and the hooded figure's burning red eyes watched the snake in pleasure. The apparition spoke.

"I fear, Wormtail, that one of our number is no longer entirely loyal to us. How...sad."

"H-How do you know, my Lord?" said the quavering voice of one long used to subservience. 

"Ah, Wormtail, you, who have known me so long, need to ask that question?" The other voice made no reply, and Lord Voldemort continued, "I think we have been here long enough. This... damp hovel you inherited has been a satisfactory place to recover and plan after the Potter fiasco last year" ...here the red slitted eyes narrowed in anger... "but I think it is time to move on. Besides, Nagini grows...restless." The snake hissed in agreement, and the cowed figure crouching in the corner quivered. 

"WORMTAIL!"

"Y-Yes, my Lord?"

"Go out and fetch a mouse for Nagini, and be quick about it."

Wormtail scuttled out of the room. Voldemort stopped in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. Their reflection danced evilly in his eyes. 

"Yes, very soon," he said, in his low sinuous voice.

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The exterior of Hogwarts was beautiful at night, Draco thought. Moonlight and shadow merged to create a mysterious and imposing sight, and the torches that burned throughout the night added to the mystique. But where on Earth was Potter taking him? There was nothing in this direction but the lake, and it wasn't exactly private. To his surprise, Harry came to a stop in front of the Whomping Willow. "Potter," Draco began. 

"Here we are," said Harry brightly, interrupting him. Draco watched in amazement as Harry picked up a long fallen branch and poked at the trunk. The tree immediately froze in place, and Harry held out his hand to Draco, smiling. "Come on, Malfoy, don't be such a chicken," Harry said.

Draco found himself in a long dark tunnel. It was only big enough for one person to pass through at a time, and Harry, in front, was leading him along by the hand. 

"Why are we stumbling along in the dark?" said Draco. "Oh, yeah," said Harry, pulling out his wand and muttering, "Lumos". It wasn't much better with a light, thought Draco. He looked distastefully at the bare earth wall and the dirty cobbled floor. At last they came to a set of stone steps, leading up to a door. Draco had held his peace long enough. 

"Are you ever going to tell me where we are?" he asked. "Or does it amuse you to demonstrate your vast knowledge of cupboards and dank holes around Hogwarts?"

"We're in the Shrieking Shack," said Harry calmly, choosing to ignore Draco's rudeness. "You know, in the village? I thought...".

He was cut short by Draco's attempt to turn and run for it. Draco was somewhat impeded by his refusal to let go of Harry's hand, but he was still making a valiant attempt to escape. "MALFOY," Harry said, exasperated. " DRACO! It's ALL RIGHT!".

Draco gave up on his attempt to run, since he couldn't manage to drag Harry out of the tunnel and he wasn't about to let go of him. "If this is a trick, Potter, you are dragon shit. I'm NOT going in there, everyone knows its haunted."

"Its not haunted," Harry replied. "You have to trust me. There's nothing in there that will hurt you."

With that, he pulled open the door and stepped inside, releasing Draco's hand. Draco followed, albeit reluctantly. They were in a long hallway. Dust rose from the boards, and moonlight could be seen in the rooms streaming in through the cracks in the boarded up windows. Harry entered a deserted room on his right, walking to the middle of the room and stopping short. He had dropped into deep thought and almost forgot Draco's unusually silent presence.

He realized he was about to tell Draco something that he hadn't even shared with one of his closest friends. He and Ron had made the decision together that it was a bad idea to tell Hermione about the ring and picture just yet. Neither of them had forgotten the Firebolt incident. They realized Hermione only did these things because she cared about Harry and didn't want him to come to any harm, but really, where was the fun in that? Harry completely intended to tell Hermione about the ring but not just yet. 

He walked into the room a little bit farther. Back to Draco, he was attempting to peer out one of the many openings left by the spaces between the boards in the windows. Draco was still nervous about being in the place altogether, and was slowly inching closer to Harry. He was afraid this was some kind of trick and Harry was going to leave him alone with only some horrendous vengeful spirit for company. He jumped when Harry began to speak.

"I suppose you wanted to talk to me about that ring," Harry said. He began to tell Draco the story of the ring, including Augustin and the photo. His words came haltingly at first, then began to spill out in a rush. He hesitated when relating the story of the dream, but he took the plunge and told Draco every word of it. It was now an extremely personal experience to him and it had been hard for him to even tell Ron. Finally he got to the experiment he and Ron had made with ring the night before last. 

Draco listened in silence, amazed. Harry really trusted him. Draco had never given Harry reason to have faith in him, but here they were, together, and Harry was telling him this unbelievable story. Even stranger, Draco believed every word of it. 

"I can't even describe to you what happened when I put that ring on", Harry said. "It was like a combination of a Pensieve and a Perceptivity potion. All the unrelated thoughts in my mind just meshed together, like, I don't know, I could THINK so clearly." 

Draco was now standing behind Harry, staring at the curve of his neck. 

Harry continued, "Have you ever had one of those moments where the universe just opened up for you and you could suddenly understand something? It was only a stupid Transfiguration formula but it was like being conked over the head by the truth, the concept just entered my mind whole and everything McGonagall had said made sense. Like I always knew it but I only realized it when I put the ring on."

Draco, unable to stop himself, reached forward and ran his fingers gently over the nape of Harry's neck, coming to rest on Harry's shoulder.

"And what happened, Potter, when I put that ring on your finger?" said Draco. "Can you describe that?" he breathed into Harry's ear.

Harry dropped his head for a moment, unwilling to answer. Then, as though he could no longer do battle against the truth, he turned and faced Draco and looked him in the eye.

"I realized something else that I have always known," he said.

Draco reached for Harry, but he needn't have bothered. Harry was already there. His mouth met Draco's with an intensity that made Draco's knees weak. He might have fallen had Harry not wrapped his arms around him. His skin burned everywhere Harry's body touched his. They kissed almost in utter silence, small kisses that broke and reformed like ocean waves.

Draco buried one hand in Harry's soft messy hair and used the other to caress Harry's neck, collarbone to shoulder to pulse point. Harry moaned into Draco's mouth, wanted to arch and purr like a cat at the pleasure of the touch he so desperately needed. He broke their kiss and paused for breath before turning his attention to Draco's neck. He licked a slow path almost to Draco's earlobe and then followed it back with a trail of softly blown breath. His arms tightened around Draco and pulled him closer. Draco, enjoying Harry's attention, turned them both around and leaned back against the wall, tipping back his chin and offering his throat to Harry's lips.

Harry's hands unlocked themselves behind Draco's back, traveling up the length of their bodies and grasping Draco's own hands. _No, uh-uh_, thought Draco, _I hope you're not planning to push yourself away from me because you're not going anywhere._ But Harry only held Draco's hands, palm to palm, and slipped his fingers in between Draco's. He pushed Draco back against the wall, a little roughly, trapping him in place, holding his hands on either side of Draco's head. _You want this_, thought Draco, _you want it, and you want it as much as I do. _

Oh, he wants this, thought Harry, listening to Draco's soft sighs and moans. Harry himself was absolutely lost in Draco, and he knew the most exquisite pain of his life when Draco dropped his head, finally, and bit him, softly at first and then harder. Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, Draco's bites changed to the tiniest gentlest kisses imaginable. Harry couldn't help himself. He said Draco's name, softly at first, trying it out. Draco's kisses at his throat changed to gentle sucking, and Harry wrapped his arms around Draco again and growled, "Draco, God..." He felt Draco tense against him. 

"Again, say it again" said Draco urgently, "please, Harry, I want it, I need it..." Harry complied feverishly, whispering Draco's name over and over. He would have begged Draco not to stop, told him how much he needed him, wanted him, had he been able, but he couldn't speak. He was reduced to pleading whimpers.

Draco finally stopped kissing him and just stood there, holding Harry in his arms, cheek against Harry's jaw.

"I didn't know," said Harry. "Oh, Draco, all this time and I didn't know..."

"Shh," said Draco. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is this. What matters is us."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I hope you're comfortable," said Harry. "Selfish little sod." Draco smiled contentedly with his eyes closed. "Oh, I am," he replied. Harry was sitting on the floor, back against one wall of the Shrieking Shack. Draco was lying comfortably against Harry, back to him, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. Draco stretched his arms behind him, bringing them to rest on Harry's shoulders, hands behind Harry's neck. Harry responded by rubbing his own hands along Draco's torso, up and over his chest. He planted a small kiss on Draco's temple. 

"Got a question for you," said Draco. "Well, several questions, actually. How'd you get Ariadne to bring me your note? She dislikes most people, people who aren't Malfoys, that is."

Harry privately wondered if he was supposed to be flattered by that piece of information, but wisely decided to keep his thoughts to himself. "A post owl who doesn't like people, Draco? Anyway, I didn't have to get her to bring it to you. She offered."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean she came over to me while I was in the Owlery, made a friendly gesture and then stuck out her leg like she was offering to bring you the note. I didn't have to get her to do anything."

Draco let that piece of information digest quietly for a moment. He mentally shook his head. 

"Next question. How did you know where the entrance to the Slytherin dungeons is?"

Harry smiled weakly. He was glad Draco couldn't really see his face. "Er, Fred and George Weasley told me about it in third year. They'd been down that way looking for, um, hidden tunnels or something."

Draco turned his head a little and regarded what he could see of Harry's face. Even in the semi darkness he could see a rosy blush on Harry's cheek.

He's lying to me, thought Draco. Why? He decided to let it go for the time being.

"Last question. Where did you get that admirable cloak? I thought invisibility cloaks were damned expensive and hard to come by."

"It was my father's," said Harry shortly.

Draco sat up a little and turned toward Harry. Harry was looking away from him, and the coldness on his face hurt Draco unbearably. He reached out to place his hand gently on Harry's cheek. He attempted to turn Harry's head toward him but Harry wouldn't budge. Draco then did something he had never before done in his life. He apologized.

"Harry, I know it's too late for this, but I'm sorry about your parents, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what it must have been like for you, losing your parents when you were small, having to grow up with Muggles like the Dursley's. You never had any affection, anybody to love you, but if you'll let me, I'll..." He stopped short, staring into Harry's eyes. Horrible pain was reflected there, but there were other emotions as well. Hope, and also, well... love. "I'll try to help make up for it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry woke up with a start. It was no longer dark in the Shrieking Shack. Murky light filled the room. 

"Draco, wake up," he said, rubbing the other boy's shoulder gently. Draco responded by burrowing his face farther into Harry's neck. "No," he replied. "If I wake up it will be morning and last night will have all been a dream."

"No dream, love," Harry replied, kissing Draco's forehead. He tipped Draco's chin up and kissed his lips, softly. "But we have to get up and get going. We'll be missed soon."

Both boys struggled ungracefully to their feet, helping each other up. They brushed dust off their robes, then headed for the door. They joined hands naturally as they entered the tunnel. Their progress was somewhat impeded by the fact that they had to stop every few feet to kiss, but they eventually made it to the entrance.

"One more kiss before we go?" said Harry pleadingly.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" said Draco, teasing.

"No, not at all," Harry replied, pulling Draco closer to him and nipping gently at his lower lip. "I want to kiss you like this every day."

Draco, pleased, rubbed his hands up and down Harry's spine.

"When will I see you again?" said Harry, against Draco's lips.

"You'll see me in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures," Draco said.

"Don't be mean," Harry replied. "You know what I'm talking about."

Draco gave up any pretense of teasing. "Whenever you want," he said. "Whenever we can."

Draco and Harry reluctantly left the Whomping Willow and walked across the front lawn of Hogwarts. High above them, an early riser watched them from his sitting room window, cup of tea in hand. Hmmm, thought Albus Dumbledore. That certainly is an unexpected development.

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Harry arrived for his meeting with Professors Dumbledore and Figg in high spirits. They could throw anything at him and he wouldn't care. He had Draco now.

He and Professor Figg got to the stone gargoyle hiding the entrance to Professor Dumbledore's office at the same time. "Ah, good, Harry, there you are," she said briskly. "And right on time too. Well, lets go up then, shall we? Sugar Plum!"

The gargoyle sprang to life and moved aside. Harry and Professor Figg ascended the spiral staircase, but instead of going right through the open door to Professor Dumbledore's office, Professor Figg rapped on the solid wood panel in front of them. It slid open, and Harry was greeted with one of the strangest sights of his life. 

Harry's experience with wizard dwellings was limited. So far he had only seen the Weasley's home, full of musty chintz and mismatched crockery, and liberally scattered with magical instruments in various states of repair. Then there was Hogwarts, which was decorated in the austere medieval manner one might expect from a School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Dumbledore's sitting room was crammed with a hodgepodge of obscure magical instruments. A shelf beside Harry was overflowing with everything from magical texts with indecipherable Latin titles to oddly shaped talismans to a perfect representation of the Egyptian goddess Bast. An egg-shaped chair hung suspended in the middle of the floor. Diagrams of magical symbols covered the walls, along with ancient plaques written in Greek and in Egyptian hieroglyphs. In one corner stood a pedestal with a bowl atop that was emitting green light; in another was a cabinet absolutely stuffed with potion ingredients. Small gadgets whirled and clicked throughout the room. 

Harry was just starting to examine a small glowing pyramid, when Professor Dumbledore appeared at a doorway in the far corner of the room. 

"Good afternoon Harry, Arabella. Come in, please."

Harry and Professor Figg followed him into a small dining area, where Professor Dumbledore served them tea from, incongruously, a delicate Art Deco tea service.

"Now then, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore once they had all been served. "I expect you have many questions for Professor Figg and myself."

Both professors looked at Harry expectantly. He had no idea where to begin. 

"I would think you'd want to know what I've been doing hanging about all these years," said Professor Figg, smiling. Harry blushed, wondering if she'd somehow overheard Ron's words on their first night back at Hogwarts.

"Well, yes," he answered.

"Do you know what a secret-keeper is, Harry?" Professor Figg asked.

"Yes," Harry replied. "Wormtail-Peter Pettigrew-was supposed to have been my parent's secret keeper."

"Yes, that's true, Harry," said Professor Figg, "and I am yours."

Harry was dumfounded. It had never occurred to him that someone had been guarding him from Voldemort for the past fourteen years, after his parents died. He had assumed that Voldemort was just, well, too weak to find him.

"Not just from Voldemort," said Dumbledore, seeming to read his mind. "From EVERYONE. The only ones who knew where you were, were myself, Professor Figg, Professor McGonagall, and Hagrid." Professor Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "I chose to hide you from the entire wizarding world, Harry. Do you understand why?" 

"You... you didn't know who you could trust?" Harry said. Professor Dumbledore nodded encouragingly. "And you," Harry continued slowly, "you didn't want everyone else, the ones who could be trusted, making a big fuss over me?"

Professor Dumbledore was far too old and had seen too much to be surprised, but he came as close then as he had been in many years.

"Well done, Harry," he said. "That was my second reason. I was trusted with something extremely important after your parents died, and that something was you. I wanted you to grow up as yourself, not as the pet of the wizard community."

"I understand that," Harry said, stirring his tea thoughtfully. "But then, how were the Weasleys able to find me? Fred, George and Ron came and, er, rescued me from the Dursleys in the summer before second year." 

"I am growing old," said Professor Dumbledore, winking at him, "but there are not many things that escape my notice, both at Hogwarts and in the outside world. I chose to let them come and "rescue" you."

Harry thought about that for a moment. Then his late night/early morning "meeting" with Draco entered his mind. He hoped Professor Dumbledore didn't know absolutely everything that went on at Hogwarts.

Professor Figg spoke again. "We've explained to you why I've been close to you while you lived with the Dursley's. But do you know why I've decided to come to Hogwarts this year?"

Harry shook his head mutely.

"The ring, Harry," she asked. "Are you keeping it safe?"

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "How do you know about the ring?" he gasped.

"I know about it because I'm the one who put it there, in the Dursley's house," she answered. "I lived there, you know."

"Well, how did you know I found it?" Harry said in bewilderment. 

"Oh, Augustin told me," she answered. "He is the ring's guardian, a sort of magical alert system, one might say. He told me you'd found it, and Albus and myself decided it was safer to let you keep it, and for the two of us to share the job of guarding you, and the ring. The ring is very powerful. It could be quite dangerous, were it to fall into the wrong hands. So I came to Hogwarts."

"But now, Harry, as your parents placed their trust in us, so we must place ours in you. You must tell no one that you have that ring. If this secret were to be exposed, Lord Voldemort would come for that ring and would stop at nothing until he got it. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Harry, gulping. He had already told two people, and one of them, my god, one of them was the son of a Death Eater. How could he have been so stupid?

"Good lad," said Professor Dumbledore. He and Professor Figg rose from the table and Harry followed suit. "It is a beautiful day and I am sure you would like to go and join your friends now."

"Remember, Harry," said Professor Figg. "Not a word to anyone about that ring or about the real reason I'm at Hogwarts."

"Of course not," said Harry. "Not a word to anyone. Good day, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Figg. I'll see myself out."

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	6. Rain and Regret

Now I know what Love Is, Chapter 6-Rain and Regret

Harry was sitting in a large comfy armchair in Gryffindor Common room, attempting to practice his Charms homework and failing miserably. Rain was beating against the windows and he was thinking of Draco, somewhere out there, soaked to the bone. Professor Sprout had had all the fifth-years out to the greenhouses at night to study Moonflowers, similar to Morning Glories except that they were white and they only bloomed at night. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had had clear weather for their excursion the night before, but it was pouring tonight and the Slytherins and Ravenclaws would be soaked. Harry stood up abruptly.

"Be right back," he told Ron. "Going to look for something in the library."

He hurried through the Common room and out the portrait hole, sneaking down the grand staircase and flattening himself against the side to wait for Draco.

The double doors soon opened, and students poured in. The Ravenclaws, with the foresight of clever people, had brought umbrellas to the greenhouses. The Slytherins, with the forcefulness of "ambitious" people, had taken them away halfway up the lawn, so all the students were about half-soaked. Draco was one of the first in, flanked on either side by Crabbe and Goyle, who had of course managed to procure two of the largest umbrellas for themselves. Draco caught a glimpse of Harry out of the corner of his eye, lurking by the foot of the staircase. He made no sign to Harry, knowing Harry had seen him, knowing Harry would wait for him.

He was right. Draco soon appeared around the edge of the stairs. Harry motioned for Draco to come even closer, leading him back into the dark corner formed by the junction of wall and stairs.

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He even looks good drenched, Harry thought. Draco's normally slicked back hair was hanging forward in his face and curving softly around his neck and ears. Draco wiped his hands across his face, clearing away some of the rain that had collected there. Harry came closer to him, reaching up to smooth his index finger over Draco's wet lips.

Draco kissed Harry's fingertip and said, "Filch will kill us both if he catches us, what with me dripping all over his floor. Did you want something that can't wait until I go up and change?"

"Want you," Harry murmured.

"I know, love, I want you too," Draco said softly, "but I'm soaking wet and cold. What are you going to do with me when you've got me?" 

In answer, Harry kissed a raindrop from the tip of Draco's nose, and then licked a trail of raindrops streaming down Draco's neck from his hair. He grasped the front of Draco's robes and pulled him closer. 

"Going to get wet," Draco said, low. Harry made no answer. He had moved on to the hollow at the base of Draco's throat and was licking away the rain from there.

"You look so good wet," Harry said against Draco's skin. "I can't decide whether to look at you or kiss you." 

"Kiss now," Draco said. "You can look any time."

Harry happily obliged, and the two of them were pleasantly occupied for a few minutes, until Harry remembered the reason he had come to meet Draco. He reluctantly pulled away. He hung his head, then looked up at Draco.

"I need to know something... I need to know if I can trust you," Harry said.

Draco frowned a little. 

"Harry, you may not believe this, but you can trust me. I may not act like the most trustworthy person, and in most instances I'm not. I'm a Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle have been my best friends since I was five but I'd betray them in a second, its true. But not you. I would take any secret you told me, any burden you want me to help you bear, and I'd carry it to my death. Do you believe me?"

Harry nodded, unable to speak for a minute. He stared into Draco's eyes, knowing, believing, that what Draco had told him was true.

"I do believe you," Harry said. He could feel the bond between Draco and himself, tugging at his heart, telling him Draco wouldn't hurt him, not anymore. 

Draco could feel it also. He knew Harry trusted him, and he was thankful for it. "If you ever need reassurance, put on the ring," he said. "I'm not telling you anything but the truth, Harry."

"The ring, that's why I came to see you," Harry said. "I almost forgot."

"And here I thought you pulled me into this dark corner so you could take advantage of me," Draco teased.

"Well, that too," Harry admitted. "I did find out some things about the ring, though, and I'd like to talk to you about it. Alone."

"Of course," Draco said, smiling. "Meet me again tomorrow night?" 

The two boys shared another lengthy goodbye kiss and then snuck off to their respective dorms, each with his own private thoughts, each thinking of something they wanted to tell the other.

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Ron, who was supposed to be writing an essay for History of Magic, was occupied in watching Seamus and Dean offering Ogre Jellies to every girl in Gryffindor Common room. The candies were Fred and George's latest invention, designed to turn pretty girls into hideous ogres. The prettier the girl, the uglier she became after eating one of the sweets. Fred had given Ron some "free samples", saying they'd be a great way to get to know girls. Ron rather doubted it. Thank Saturn the effects were only temporary.

"Herm, Get OFF!" said Ron. Hermione was trying her best to talk seriously to Ron, and failing, so she had rapped him sharply on the ear with her wand. Green sparks shot out, narrowly missing Ron's nose.

"I'm trying to talk to you, Ron," Hermione answered.

Ron sighed and turned his head away from the action. Parvati Patil had just taken on the appearance of something that crawled out from under a rock, and the entire common room was laughing uproariously.

"Where is Harry?" Hermione continued.

"In the library, Hermione, crikey, you didn't have to HIT me," Ron replied, rubbing his ear and looking sullen.

"He is NOT in the library," Hermione said. "I just came from there."

"Well, maybe he's visiting Hagrid," Ron said, shrugging.

"Without us? Besides, Hagrid isn't back yet," Hermione hissed.

Ron's eyes grew wide as a thought occurred to him. The ring! Maybe it WAS cursed. Maybe Harry was out there somewhere right now, doing evil deeds, things You-Know-Who...

Hermione interrupted his thoughts.

"Ronald Weasley, if you know something about what's been on Harry's mind since we came back to school, you had better tell me. Has Draco Malfoy been doing something to him?"

"Malfoy?" said Ron, puzzled. "What's he got to do with it?"

"You DO know something," said Hermione. "Did Harry tell you what happened at tea with Professor Figg?"

Harry had already told Ron, of course. Ron knew about the ring anyway, he reasoned, it wouldn't hurt any worse to tell him the rest of the tale, excluding Draco. Besides, Ron was sure not to tell anyone. Hermione wouldn't have told anyone either, but they decided not to let her in on the secret for her own protection. Danger seemed to follow Harry everywhere he went, and he hoped, for once, to keep Hermione out of it. Ron agreed, although Harry thought his desire to protect Hermione was probably for entirely different reasons.

Hermione was now giving Ron what he and Harry termed "the gimlet eye" and he knew he wouldn't be able to resist her stare for long. It was like a combination of his mother and Professor McGonagall, two women that had the power to frighten Ron out of his wits.

"If I tell you, Hermione, you have to promise not to let Harry know. He's afraid for you, that's why he didn't want to tell you."

"Afraid for me?" Hermione seemed incensed but she was secretly pleased. It was about time those two nitwits started appreciating her.

Ron scooted his chair closer to Hermione and started to tell her the story. They were interrupted several times by Seamus's dogged attempts to feed Hermione Ogre Jellies, but he eventually got through the whole thing.

Hermione was astonished by Harry and Ron's recent experiences.

"You know, I've never heard a word about a ring with truth-discerning powers, much as I've read," Hermione said. Ron stuck out his tongue at her. "Well, its true," she continued, unruffled. "Between searching every book in the library for the Philosopher's Stone first year and searching every other book in the library last year trying to find something to help Harry breathe underwater, you'd think we'd have read at least a mention of it."

They both glanced around as Harry entered the Common Room, speeding straight off to bed without so much as a look at either of them.

"Why is he wet?" said Ron. He and Hermione looked at each other wonderingly.

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"My turn," said Draco, sitting down in the floor and holding out his arms to Harry. Harry sat down between Draco's knees and rested his back against him.

Draco's arms tightened around Harry, and the two sat for a moment in silence. It was an enormous relief for both of them just to be together. They had been sneaking around Hogwarts, meeting whenever and where ever they could. One day they both missed breakfast, because they were busy making out in a tiny alcove behind a tapestry on the second floor and hadn't noticed the time. Both of them arrived for their first class flushed and disheveled, Harry in Transfiguration and Draco in Arithmancy, friends and teachers alike wondering what each had been up to.

Harry was relieved to be with Draco for another reason also. Most every person has one other to whom they tell all their secrets. Draco had become that person for Harry. Harry had so many things to keep private, the ring, Professor Figg, his relationship with Draco. Draco was the only person who knew everything, or would, once Harry told him the Figg story. Harry had nothing to pretend when they were together. He was himself.

Draco finally spoke, asking Harry what he had wanted to tell him about the ring. Harry told him about his meeting with Professors Figg and Dumbledore. 

"I trust you, Draco, you know I do, that's why I told you everything. But you have to promise me you won't tell your father any of it. I don't fancy having someone make another attempt on my life, and much as your father hates me..."

"Hates you?" Draco said. "Of course I won't tell him, but Father doesn't hate you, Harry, whatever gave you that idea? He wouldn't exactly be ecstatic to find you lying here in my arms, but still..."

"I know about your father, love. I saw him last year, during the Triwizard tournament. Draco, I know he's a Death Eater."

Draco paled, if possible, even more than usual. "It's true. He is a Death Eater. I can't hide anything from you, and I won't. But you don't understand WHY he's a Death Eater." Draco laughed a little. "I can't blame you for that. It took me most of my life to understand it myself."

"What d'you mean?"

"Father doesn't hate Muggles and Muggleborns, Harry. He hates weakness, and for the most part, they are weak. Think about it. If one wizard, one powerful wizard like the Dark Lord, could cause such a revolution among our kind, he could very likely have the power to rule the rest of the world. Father chooses whom he supports carefully, and his only concern is with the winning side."

"He doesn't hate you, either. In a strange way he was grateful to you for whatever happened between you and Lord Voldemort. It put more pressure on him, because he had to figure out how to return to the other side while seeming to maintain his loyalty to Voldemort. But it gave me, his son, a chance for a normal life, a life where I wasn't under the thumb of a more powerful wizard. He doesn't gladly suborn himself to anyone, you should know that. In times of peace, he rules those around him, and that's as it should be."

Harry turned his head a little, resting his forehead against Draco's neck. "What happens when he wants you to join him, as a Death Eater? What will you do then?"

Harry was shaking inside as he asked that question. He knew he was really asking Draco to choose, Harry or his father, love or the honour of a Malfoy. What would his answer be?

Draco laughed again. "Father has done everything in his power to make sure I'll never be a Death Eater, love, to make sure I'll never HAVE to be one."

Harry's heart stopped beating, so great was his relief. 

Draco sighed. "Imagine my life when we met, Harry. I knew about Father. All of his close associates had been Death Eaters also. I heard about that life, the life of killings and torture, and it sounded... well, if it was what Father wanted, it was what I wanted too."

Draco continued, "But he never let me be involved in any of that. I know you thought I was a little Death-Eater-in-training, and I tried my best to give that impression. The truth is, he kept me as far away from the Dark Lord and his supporters as possible. Do you remember, last year, when you saw me at the World Cup? In the woods?"

Harry nodded.

"Where was I? Out there wreaking havoc with Lord Voldemort's supporters? No. My Father sent me away as soon as he saw what was happening, same as Weasley's father did for you. He doesn't want me to be a Death Eater, Harry. He's only a Death Eater himself for two reasons. One, he thinks Lord Voldemort is powerful enough to gain a hold on the wizard world, and he won't back a losing side. Two, he'll do anything to make Mother's and my lives safer. His concern is maintaining the power and influence of the Malfoy family."

"I'll give you another example," Draco continued. "I know you remember, second year, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened, and everyone in school was wondering who the heir of Slytherin was?"

"Yes, I remember!" Harry said excitedly. "You said you didn't know who it was, your father wouldn't tell you anything about it..." He trailed off, remembering that he wasn't supposed to know that.

"I don't recall telling you that, Harry," Draco said quietly. "How do you know what I said? I only admitted that I didn't know anything about it to Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry was trapped. He had to tell Draco the truth now, how he, Hermione and Ron had made the Polyjuice Potion, how he and Ron had pretty much abducted Crabbe and Goyle, stuffing them in a closet, and finally, how he and Ron had followed Draco back to the Slytherin common room, pretending to be his two closest friends.

"The other night, Draco, when you asked me how I knew where the entrance to the Slytherin dorms is? I lied to you."

Harry reluctantly told Draco the entire story, expecting Draco to get up and leave at any moment. Draco sat silent for a moment after Harry was done.

"There was me thinking you knew where Slytherin dungeons are because you'd snuck into them at some point to meet somebody else. God, Harry, I've imagined you with everybody from Blaise Zabini to, to Millicent Bulstrode." 

He and Harry looked at each other for a minute, then began laughing so hard tears formed in their eyes.

"Oh my god, Draco, how could you?" said Harry, wiping his eyes and shaking his head. "Millicent Bulstrode?"

Draco stopped laughing and regarded Harry, who was now half turned toward him.

"I was wrong, though, wasn't I? You were there for me," said Draco, stroking Harry's face. "Thought I'd be mad if you told me, didn't you?" Draco looked away. "I would have been happy that you'd go to all that trouble just to talk to me."

"Draco," said Harry, "don't think about me with anyone else. There are no Blaise Zabinis, and surely no Millicent Bulstrodes." He settled back against Draco, almost afraid to ask his next question. "What-what about you?"

"There is no one else for me, either," said Draco. "I've wanted you since I was eleven. There is no room in my heart for anyone else."

The two boys snuggled in peaceful silence for a moment. 

"You would have been a good Slytherin," said Draco, chuckling. Then he thought about what he had just said. "Oh, Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."

"I know what you meant," Harry said. "Actually, the Sorting Hat said the same thing. It wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"It did?" said Draco, surprised.

"Yes," said Harry. "I asked not to be put in Slytherin because I thought that all Slytherins were, well... bad."

'Bad, huh?" said Draco. "Well, you weren't far wrong. But you know, love, sometimes it feels good to be bad."

Feels good to be bad? What was Draco talking about?

Harry tried to turn and look at Draco.

"Come back here," Draco said. "Come here and let me show you how good it can feel..."

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Harry looked around, startled to find himself on the gallery of what appeared to be quite a large house, when it seemed to him he had just gone to bed a few minutes before. He left the chair he had been sitting in, walking to the porch railing. He recognized the huge oaks lining the drive in front of the house as the ones he had been walking through with Augustin in his last dream. 

"Hello again, Harry," said a voice beside him.

"Augustin!" Harry replied. "I found out all about the ring, you know, what it does and all, I didn't get a chance to ask you before..."

"Oui, oui," said Augustin, laughing. "I know, and I am glad for you. I think you found a purpose of your own for it, hmmm? The ring showed you some of your own truth?" Augustin winked at Harry, his brown eyes dancing with merriment. Harry felt his face grow hot.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he replied.

"He loves you, you know," Augustin said. "He thinks you make him better, as a person. He knows you make him happy."

"I love him, too," Harry confessed. "We haven't, you know, told each other yet or anything."

"You will, soon," Augustin said. 

Augustin was silent for a moment, and Harry glanced at his face. It had grown dark, as though a shadow had passed over it. "I wish that was what I had come to talk to you about, Harry," he said. "As Arabella told you, I am the ring's guardian, although that was not my role in life. But I can not protect it. I can only warn others when it is in danger. I can feel thoughts that are connected with the ring. That is how I knew what was happening with you."

"Are you feeling something about it now?" Harry said. He was dreading the answer. He didn't want anything to mar his happiness, but he was a Gryffindor, and it was in his nature to face things bravely. If Lord Voldemort had found out he had the ring, he needed to know.

"Not many people knew about the ring, even at the time it was made," Augustin said. "It has always been a secret, though it was created with the purest intentions. But those who find their home in darkness often make their way to things that can help them gain the power they so desperately crave."

"He doesn't know you have it, Harry, not yet. But he knows it exists. If his mind turns toward you, you will know, won't you?" Harry nodded. He had learned to trust the pains in his scar. "If that happens, you must talk to Albus and Arabella, immediately." 

Augustin saw the worried look on Harry's face, and smiled at him once again. "I did not mean to frighten you, Harry. I have been in this world a long time, both as participant and observer, and I sometimes forget how young you are."

"I'm not afraid," said Harry, pretending a confidence he did not entirely feel. 

"I am glad to hear that," Augustin said. He looked out through the avenue of oaks again, gloved fingertips lightly touching the rail, and sighed. "It is time for me to leave you again." He looked at Harry. "Do not take your happiness for granted," he said. "Cherish every moment you have together. Goodbye, mon ami, until I see you again."

"Goodbye, Augustin," Harry tried to say, but his own voice sounded far away to him, and he was already returning to sleep.

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	7. Love and Curse

Now I Know What Love is, Chapter 7-Love and Curse

Harry strode happily down the hallway to the empty Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom one night after dinner. He was on his way to meet Draco, to be truly alone with him since their last meeting in the Shrieking Shack. The two boys were having more and more difficulty finding time to be together. The circle of friends around each was growing deeply suspicious. Draco had told him that even Crabbe and Goyle were beginning to suspect something was up.

Harry entered the deserted classroom, deep in his own thoughts. He was early, so Draco wouldn't be there yet. He walked absentmindedly to the large desk at the front of the room and hopped up on it, drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them, settling down to wait.

"Harry Potter!" a squeaky voice greeted him. 

Harry almost toppled off the desk. "Dobby?" he said incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

"I is coming to warn you, Harry Potter," said Dobby grimly. "Dobby is finding out you has been bad. You has been sneaking around the castle at night, meeting"...Dobby looked around before continuing in a whisper..."**_dark wizards_**."

Dark wizards? thought Harry. Since when was he... oh.

"You've been spying on me, Dobby," Harry said coldly. "Draco and I are...friends now."

"House elves is lowly, Harry Potter, but we is not blind," Dobby continued. "Dobby is seeing you with his old master's son. You is more than friends."

Harry blushed, wondering just which meeting with Draco Dobby had chanced upon. It didn't matter, whatever he'd seen was likely to be extremely embarrassing, especially if Dobby spread the word around to anyone else.

"Forget what you saw, Dobby," Harry said. "Whatever it was. Draco and I are not...what you think we are. We are not together. What you saw was a mistake. Forget it." Harry was painfully aware that he was lying, and betraying Draco in the bargain, but the two of them had agreed that their relationship must be kept a secret. If Dobby believed they were together, God knows what he would do or say to keep them apart.

Dobby glanced toward the doorway and his eyes grew wide. He let out a high pitched squeal and disappeared in his usual manner, with a loud **POP**. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Draco standing there in the doorway, staring at him in puzzled hurt. He jumped off the desk and approached him.

"Draco, that was-"

"Dobby, I know," said Draco. "So, this whole thing has been a mistake, has it?" he continued softly. "I suppose it was at that."

"No, Draco!" Harry said. "You know I didn't mean that, it was just-" 

"I think I can draw my own conclusions," said Draco. He turned to go, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I loved you, you know," he said, then walked out. Harry rushed to the door, but running footsteps far away told him he was too late. Draco was gone.

Harry sank to the floor, drawing his knees toward him and resting his forehead on them. What had just happened? What had he done?

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Earlier that evening, Hermione and Ron were standing in front of the Fat Lady's portrait, arguing in whispers. Harry had disappeared to God knows where again, and Ron wanted to follow him. Hermione had an inkling where Harry had gone, and why, and was not interested on walking in on any of the scenarios she was imagining.

Ron had gone up to his and Harry's dorm a few minutes earlier and grabbed the Marauder's Map, rushing back down to meet Hermione on her way in.

"Look!" said Ron, shoving the Map under her nose. "There he is, all the way down by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He's not up to anything good, or he would have at least told me where he was going!"

Hermione had spotted another dot moving toward Harry on the Map, so she grabbed Ron's wrist and forced it down to his side, not wanting Ron to see the name under the little moving blip.

"Ron, we can't just go around spying on him," she said. Ron looked down to his wrist, grasped so tightly in Hermione's hand it was beginning to hurt. 

"Hermione, it's not spying!" he said. "We're his friends, we're worried about him."

Ron wrenched his wrist free of Hermione's grasp, glancing at the Map again. His eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. "Look!" he gasped. "It's Malfoy, and he's heading right toward Harry. Come on, Hermione, come on, we don't have time to argue about this." He looked imploringly at Hermione, who was staring at him in stony silence. "All right," Ron said, "if you won't help Harry, I will."

With that, he turned and sped off, robes flying out behind him. Hermione shook her head and followed him at a similar pace.

Ron entered the corridor leading to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom just in time to see Draco running toward him, head down. Ron saw him coming and boiled over in anger. Whatever he'd done to Harry, this time, he was going to pay. Ron raised his wand, not thinking, wanting to lash out at the one person he was sure had hurt his best friend somehow.

Hermione arrived behind Ron just in time to see what he intended to do. She reached for his wand, screaming, "Ron, NO!", but she was too late. 

Ron had already pointed his wand at the unsuspecting Draco, bellowing "Inficio!". Draco hit the floor with a thud, knocking his head hard on the stone flagged floor. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth. Ron stood there, surveying the damage he had caused with a grim smile of satisfaction on his face.

Hermione rushed past Ron, dropping to her knees and placing one hand on Draco's neck to check his pulse. "He's still alive, anyway," she said, glaring at Ron. "Go and get Madame Pomphrey." Ron just looked at her, uncomprehending. "Ron, go," she said sharply. Ron turned and walked quickly in the other direction, occasionally looking back over his shoulder as if to check and see if Hermione was actually serious. 

Harry heard Hermione's shout from far away, as he walked disconsolately back toward Gryffindor Tower, and came on the run. He turned the final corner, saw Draco lying there on the floor, and dropped quickly to his knees by Draco's head. He sat on the floor, cradling Draco's head in his lap, wiping blood from Draco's face with the edge of his robes. Hermione crouched down beside him, laying one hand on his shoulder. Harry looked over at her in panic.

"Ron's gone to get help," she said in answer to his wordless question.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Ron thought Malfoy had been blackmailing you or hurting you or something, I don't know," she replied. "I tried to stop him, but I couldn't reach him in time."

"And you?" Harry said. "What did you think?"

"Nobody that looks at you the way he does would hurt you, I think," she replied.

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Draco woke up in bed, feeling slightly nauseous and very dizzy, wondering what the bloody hell had happened to him. He lay very still and kept his eyes closed. Memories started flooding back to him. He remembered running down a dark hallway, full of hurt buzzing in his mind and heart like so many bees. He remembered facing Weasley, wand raised and faced contorted with anger. Pain and rage washed over him as he remembered. This situation, every bit of it, was Harry's fault.

Draco heard voices close by, outside the bed curtains around him. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to sleep, in case somebody was watching him.

'Go, Potter," he heard Madame Pomphrey's voice say. His heart beat faster and his stomach suddenly rolled over as he heard Harry's voice reply.

"But, Draco... is he going to be all right?"

"He'll live, if that's what you're asking," came her curt reply. "But he's very ill. Now, off with you. Your presence isn't going to rectify the damage you and your friends caused tonight. I thought I'd seen everything, but the Venom curse, no one's used that one in years, and you should have known..."

Draco listened to her berate Harry as she ushered him out the door. His first impulse was to jump out of bed and defend Harry, but he realized Madame Pomphrey was right. Anger welled up in him.

Madame Pomphrey entered his room. Draco was still pretending to be asleep, but she wasn't fooled, having nursed generations of Hogwarts students.

"Here, drink this," she said irritably, reaching him a glass of foaming purple liquid. Draco opened one eye and looked at her impassively.

"It will help your stomach," she said, a little more gently. Draco tried to rise up but fell back as violent waves of nausea rushed over him. Madame Pomphrey supported his head as he drank the contents of the beaker.

"Sleep now," she said. "They can't hurt you here. You're safe."

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No, he hurts me in a different place-my heart, Draco thought, a little incoherently_, _as he drifted off to sleep.

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Draco woke deep in the watches of the night, heart pounding, in the grip of a nightmare he could not remember. Convinced he was still dreaming, he felt arms tighten around him.

"Shh, love, its ok." A warm hand caressed his shoulder and stroked the side of his face. Draco realized this was no dream, but he chose to pretend he was still sleeping. He didn't have the energy to wake up and be mad at Harry. Besides, he'd never been in bed with Harry before, and he loved it. Harry obviously had no concept of personal space and seemed to regard Draco as his very own fuzzy blanket. Harry's knees were tucked up behind Draco's and Draco could feel Harry's body pressed against his back, stomach moving peacefully as he breathed. He could also feel Harry nuzzling the back of his neck occasionally. 

Draco wondered if he would ever get used to being this close to Harry. Lately they had breathed the same air every moment they were together. Draco shivered a little, remembering some of the time they had spent alone recently. Behind him, Harry, sounding quite anxious, said "Are you all right? Do you need me to get Madame Pomphrey?"

"I'm fine," said Draco through gritted teeth. He'd never been less fine in his life. Harry was rubbing his hand back and forth across Draco's stomach, apparently in an attempt to comfort him, but his touch was having the opposite effect. Draco grabbed Harry's hand, forcing him to stop. Harry entwined their fingers and slid his arm around Draco again as tightly as he could. Draco, heart finally beating slower, started drifting quietly off to sleep. Long after he'd thought Harry asleep, a muffled voice whispered in his ear, "I love you too, you know."

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Sunlight streamed through the large window by Draco's bed. He had just come back to consciousness again. He was extremely weak but felt much better than he had the night before. 

H recalled last night with a pang of guilt. Harry had risked a great deal to sneak into his room, and he was probably already facing suspension at the very least.

Madame Pomphrey bustled into Draco's room, bearing a steaming tray of what was probably his breakfast. Draco's stomach turned at the thought of food.

"You eat every bite of that, young man," she said sternly. "And don't even think of getting out of bed. You may get up and get dressed later, IF I think you're up to it. Professor Dumbledore has requested a meeting with you, Potter, Weasley, and Granger, but you're not going to be there if you're still feeling ill."

Draco meekly picked up his spoon and attempted a bite of porridge. He was still feeling slightly nauseated, but he was determined to eat every bite if it meant he got to see Harry later. He wasn't about to let Harry face Professor Dumbledore alone. Madame Pomphrey watched him eat a few bites and then, seemingly satisfied, turned and walked out the door.

Draco thankfully swallowed his last bite of food and fell back against his pillows. He let his head fall to one side, falling into a daydream about snuggling in bed with Harry the way they'd done the night before. Feeling warm all over, he absentmindedly slid his hand under the pillow and was surprised to feel something there. He pulled his hand back out from under the pillow and found he was holding an envelope.

Draco looked at the envelope for a moment. He recognized the handwriting, the same as it had been on that first note his owl had brought him from Harry. The only difference was that this time the front of the envelope said "Draco" instead of "Malfoy". 

Draco apprehensively slit the top of the envelope open with his finger. A small round object fell out. Draco picked it up, and his heart leapt with relief when he realized what it was. Harry wouldn't have left his ring with him if he were mad at him.

Draco unfolded the single sheet of parchment left in the envelope and read.

__

Draco,

I love you. I don't know if you heard me tell you last night, and I need you to know. I left you my ring. I want you to put it on your finger, because you'll know then that I do love you. I want you to leave it on your finger, to remind you how I feel every time you look at it.

Ron's mad at me, but I think Hermione understands somehow. She was the one that sent Ron for Madame Pomphrey, before I got to you last night. I haven't told them the truth yet, but I'm going to. I'll never tell another lie like I did last night. 

Until I see you again, love,

Harry

Draco looked at the ring, now lying in the palm of his hand. He didn't need it to know Harry loved him, but he wanted to wear it. The thought of having the ring on his finger all the time made him feel as though he really belonged to Harry.

Draco slid the ring on his finger and rolled over in bed, clutching his pillow for comfort in lieu of Harry. He was still exhausted and sleep overtook him almost immediately.

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	8. Better and Worse

Now I Know What Love Is, Chapter 8-Better and Worse

Draco lounged in bed, still in the hospital wing, trying to work on an essay for Charms. Madame Pomphrey had allowed him to get up and get dressed, but had ordered him back to bed afterward. Consequently, Professor Dumbledore's requested meeting was going to be held by Draco's bedside.

Dumbledore and Ron arrived at nearly the same time, taking seats in the rather uncomfortable velvet chairs that had been provided for them. Harry and Hermione came in next. Hermione took a seat as far from Ron as possible. He, in turn, pointedly aimed his knees in the other direction and turned his nose up in the air.

Harry ignored his chair, going instead to sit on the edge of Draco's bed. He smiled tentatively at Draco and was rewarded with an answering grin. Draco slid his hand toward Harry, over the covers, showing Harry that he was wearing his ring. Harry covered Draco's hand with his own, averting his eyes from the look of stunned betrayal Ron shot him.

"Well, are we ready to begin?" said Professor Dumbledore pleasantly. He looked around at the small group assembled before him and continued.

"I asked that your Heads of House not be present today," he said. "because there are matters at stake here that I wish to keep private. Severus and Minerva tend to be a little... excitable when it comes to their favorite students." Dumbledore winked gravely at Harry and Draco. "So who would like to begin by telling me exactly what happened last night?"

"What happened," Ron began angrily, "is that this stupid git here-"

"It was my own fault, Professor," Draco interrupted smoothly. "I was out for a, er, stroll, when I came upon Weasley and Granger. I attacked Weasley first, and I missed. He was just defending himself."

Three pairs of astonished eyes regarded Draco, who only continued to look impassively straight ahead. Harry squeezed his hand, trying to let him know he understood what Draco was trying to do and he was grateful for it. Professor Dumbledore smiled at Draco and said, "That was an admirable try, Mr. Malfoy, but I am afraid I doubt your veracity. However, since you are recovering rapidly and no one else has been hurt, I think we shall let the incident pass."

"Now then," he continued, "I do have another question. Would you care to explain, Harry, why a ring that you were supposed to be keeping a secret is currently on Mr. Malfoy's finger?"

Harry was silent for a moment. The truth was, he was so used to telling Draco everything that he had forgotten he was supposed to be keeping the ring secret from everyone.

"You told him about the ring?" Hermione and Ron burst out at the same time, she in disbelief, he in anger. Harry looked at Hermione.

"How do you know about it?" he said. Hermione cast her eyes down. 

"Well, I asked Ron, I mean I convinced Ron to tell me, and... I was just worried about you," she finished in a miserable whisper.

"I see there are no secrets among friends," said Professor Dumbledore. "Unfortunately, this changes matters considerably." He turned to Hermione and Ron. "I must ask the two of you to go and pack your things now. You are put in considerable danger simply by possessing this knowledge, and you are going to have to be sent somewhere safer for the time being."

"What about school?" said Hermione anxiously. "We'll miss loads of important classes if we're gone."

"Miss Granger, I assure you, wherever you'll be, your education will not suffer," said Dumbledore reassuringly. 

"And what about you?" said Ron to Harry, "I suppose you're just going to hang around and hold this miserable bugger's hand until he gets well, never mind your FRIENDS." He glared at Draco. "You're gong to get killed. I can't believe you'd do this of your own free will. You have to be under some sort of curse."

"Ron," said Harry, then stopped. He was at a loss for words.

"Mr. Weasley, all will be explained to you in time, I am sure," said Professor Dumbledore evenly.

"I don't want to know," said Ron, stalking out the door. Hermione shot Harry a look of concern and trailed out after Ron, closing the door behind her.

Professor Dumbledore turned back to Harry and Draco. "Gentleman," he said, "I must regretfully ask you to hand over that ring to me for safekeeping."

Draco was heartbroken. He raised his hand and tried to tug the ring off, but it wouldn't budge. He twisted and turned it, an expression of rising panic on his face, before holding out his hand to Dumbledore. "Professor, it won't come off!"

"I was afraid of that," said Professor Dumbledore. "It seems that neither of you want that ring to be removed from Mr. Malfoy's finger, do you?"

Harry and Draco looked at each other and silently shook their heads.

"The ring, being a discerner of truth, realizes that fact. That's why it won't come off. There is nothing but good faith between the two of you, and it resonates with both of you. It seems that the two of you are inextricably bound by loyalty on one side and danger on the other. The two of you are going to have to be moved to someplace more private and more safe for now, until that ring can removed."

"Harry, you should go and pack your own things and prepare to go into hiding for a while. Later, I'll have someone go to the Slytherin dormitory with you and you can pack Draco's belongings for him as well. I trust that that arrangement is agreeable?"

"Yes, Professor," said Harry.

"Of course," said Draco.

"Harry, I think it best if you have dinner here with Draco a little early. I shall be back later to escort you to your new residence."

Professor Dumbledore rose and left, leaving the two boys alone. Harry looked at Draco apprehensively. He still wasn't sure Draco had completely forgiven him for betraying him to Dobby.

Draco was exhausted just from the effort of sitting up throughout the meeting. He lay back against his pillows and looked at Harry for a moment, then made a weary gesture with his hand. "Come here to me," he said softly.

Harry turned around and crawled across the bed toward Draco. Now that he had started his progression, he couldn't stop. Neither were satisfied until they were wrapped around each other, so enmeshed in each other's bodies that an observer couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"I dream about you every night," Draco confessed. "I wake up thinking you're there, in my arms, but it's always smoke and wishful thinking. I come back to reality knowing it can't be true, that I can't have you, you're not mine to kiss and touch and hold. You are more than my dreams. How am I supposed to live without you? I love you."

"I love you too," Harry said. "Don't even think about trying to live without me. You don't have to. I won't let you. When you wake up tonight, I'm going to be there beside you, close as skin." Harry closed his eyes and breathed in Draco's scent. "I'm jealous of the air you breathe, do you know that?"

"Why, love?" Draco said.

"Because it knows how you feel inside," answered Harry.

The two boys lay there for a minute, until the sound of footsteps walking toward the bed could be heard. Harry disentangled himself from Draco and sat up. Madame Pomphrey poked her head in the door.

"Five minutes, Potter," she said. "Mr. Malfoy needs his rest."

She left, and Harry turned toward Draco again. He leaned over and kissed Draco gently.

"Mmmm," Draco said, attempting to pull Harry back into bed with him. Harry almost gave in but managed to resist, knowing that if he got back in bed with Draco he'd never get out. He needed to talk to Hermione and Ron, to try to straighten things out between the three of them.

"Don't worry, I'll be back later, very soon," said Harry, leaning in for one more kiss before leaving. He turned and walked swiftly out the door before his resolve weakened.

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Harry found Hermione and Ron on the front steps of Hogwarts, waiting for a carriage to come and take them to the Hogwarts Express. Hermione threw her arms around him as soon as she saw him, almost overbalancing the two of them. Harry managed to stay upright and return her hug, so grateful for her support that tears started to leak out of his eyes. He blinked them away.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you," he said. Hermione kissed his cheek and pulled away from him. "I didn't want you to be in danger, you know, from the ring. Do you know where you're going?"

"The Burrow, I should think," she said. "It's the safest place. Isn't it, Ron?" She turned to Ron, who shook his head, glowered at both of them and turned away.

"He'll come around," Hermione whispered. "He doesn't understand, you know, about Malfoy...Draco...yet."

"And you do?" Harry asked.

Hermione sat down on the steps, pulling him down to sit beside her. "I have a confession to make," she said. "Please forgive me, Harry, but I was so worried about you. I saw you and Draco looking at each other, and I thought I knew what it meant...I just couldn't believe it. So, after Ron told me about the ring, I snuck into your dorm one night and tried it on, hoping it would help me see the truth about what the two of you were up to." 

Harry blushed furiously. "Well, at least it wasn't you trying to curse Draco, I'm sure you know some Ron hasn't even heard of. Were you shocked when you figured it out?"

"I was flabbergasted," she said. "But I understood. I guess I felt the same way last year when I didn't tell you about Viktor. Funny, isn't it? I was afraid you wouldn't approve."

One of the Hogwarts carriages rumbled up just then, driven by a squat and extremely wrinkled elf. Hermione stood up.

"Goodbye for now," she said. "Owl me when you can. Don't say anything about the ring in your letters," she said sternly, "you never know who might get hold of one." Hermione captured him in another bone crushing hug. 

She stepped inside the carriage and was gone. Harry watched Ron preparing to follow her, and decided he wasn't going to let his best friend leave like that. The thought of Ron being too angry with him to speak to him hurt him unbearably. He walked up to Ron, touched him on the shoulder and when Ron turned, he seized him in a hug that was a twin to the ones Hermione had given him earlier. Ron resisted for a moment and then gave in. Ron hugged him back as tightly as he could and pulled away, stepping into the carriage without a word to Harry.

Harry watched the carriage bounce down the drive and away out of sight. He turned back to reenter Hogwarts with a heavy heart, already missing his friends.

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It was extremely odd, thought Harry, to be sitting here having dinner and a normal conversation with Draco. He had had so many desperately hurried encounters with him, knowing that there was not enough time to say everything he wanted to say. Well, he was having a conversation with Draco now, and he had discovered something important. Draco was a dedicated flirt, and rather candid about how attractive he thought Harry.

The final straw was when Draco leaned over and licked Harry's neck, right in the middle of a perfectly innocent point about Quidditch Harry was trying to make. Harry shivered violently, as much from the surprise as from the pleasure. Draco sat back and surveyed him with amusement.

"Are you like this all the time?" Harry said. "Here I am, trying to talk to you about Quidditch, there's nothing sexy about Quidditch, and you, you just lean over and lick me."

"Nothing sexy about Quidditch?" said Draco, raising one eyebrow. "EVERYTHING about Quidditch is sexy, where have you been?"

"Like what?" said Harry, grinning. "Name one thing."

"Quidditch gloves," said Draco, a faraway look in his eyes. Harry laughed at him. "I'm serious," said Draco, wide-eyed. "Think about it. They're nice soft leather, think how good they'd feel running over your skin. Bare fingertips and leather palms, stroking your body, wouldn't that feel fantastic?"

Draco looked innocently at Harry, who was now staring at him dazedly, no doubt imagining how exactly it would feel.

"I hope we never have to play against each other again," Harry said. "You've ruined me. I'm corrupted. How am I supposed to concentrate on catching the snitch now?"

"You are not corrupted," said Draco. "You, love, are easy."

"I'm what?" Harry said. "I am not, it's not me, it's you."

Draco scooted closer to Harry, running his hands up Harry's chest and locking them at the back of Harry's neck. He pulled Harry closer, placing small kisses up and down his throat. Harry moaned, easily submitting to Draco's desire. Draco pulled away, earning a small noise of protest from Harry.

"See?" said Draco complacently. "Easy."

"Well, maybe for you," Harry admitted. 

"For me, that's right," Draco answered. 

Harry shuddered. "Can we change the subject now? Dumbledore will be here soon. I don't want to be here in the middle of this conversation when he walks in."

"Sure," said Draco.

"So, what are we having for desert?" Harry asked.

"Ice cream," Draco answered, grinning devilishly at him.

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"This way, Harry, Draco," said Professor Dumbledore, leading them through the entrance to his private apartments. Harry supported Draco, still walking with slow, faltering steps, to a comfortable looking, cushy sofa, depositing him carefully on it. Draco lay down, and Harry sat down by his feet. Professor Dumbledore sat down in a high backed chair facing the two boys, folding his hands in front of him.

"How are you feeling, Draco?" he asked.

"Still really weak, Professor," Draco admitted. "I'm not feeling sick anymore, though, so the venom must be wearing off."

"Good, good," Dumbledore said. "Regrettably, I have been called away on Ministry business, and I will not be able to stay here with you. However, I am sure you will find everything you need to be comfortable, and I will be returning as soon as possible."

"So we're going to stay here until you get back?" said Harry, surprised.

"There is no safer or more magically protected place," said Professor Dumbledore. "And it would seem that the two of you need all the protection you can get." He turned to Harry. "In your conversations with Augustin, Harry, did he share anything about the history of the ring with you?" 

"No, nothing," Harry replied.

"Then it is time you knew the truth," Professor Dumbledore said. He looked somberly at Harry and Draco. "Much has been kept from you about your family, Harry. Have you ever heard of the Alliance de L'oiseau Se Levant?"

"No," Harry replied. Draco was silent. It seemed he had decided to let Harry do all the talking on the subject.

"The Alliance de L'oiseau Se Levant was a magical sect, at it's strongest in the early part of the nineteenth century," he informed them. "The order had three nominal leaders. Augustin Lesadre was one. My father, Albion Dumbledore, was another. The third was your own great-grandfather, Harry...Phineas Potter. They created the Boucle de la Verite-the Ring of Truth-as a weapon against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. Its power was instrumental in his defeat, but its potential for evil was so great, these three men decided the ring must be kept secret. Augustin agreed to be magically bound to the ring, even after death, in order to become its guardian. They didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands, you see."

Harry nodded, too spellbound by the story and the mention of his ancestor to say anything.

"Augustin Lesadre has no living descendants, and you, Harry, are the last of the Potters. You and I are now responsible for the ring and the powers it possesses."

Harry reached almost unconsciously for Draco's hand. Draco, knowing what Harry wanted, gave him his left hand, the one with the ring on it. Harry grasped Draco's hand and distractedly twirled the ring around on Draco's finger.

Dumbledore pulled an elaborate pocket watch out of his robe and peered at it intently. "It is time I was off. I shall see the two of you shortly." He smiled benevolently at the two boys. "I trust there will be no fighting between the two of you?"

"Of course not, Professor," Draco said.

"Get some rest," Professor Dumbledore said. With that, he turned and left. 

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	9. Bond and Letter

A/N: Before this chapter even starts, I want to give the author Mercedes Lackey credit for the concept of the life bond and it's implications. I first heard of it in her wonderful series, The Last Herald-Mage.

Now I Know What Love Is, Ch. 9-Bond and Letter

Screams punctured the silence of the night, pain and horror piercing the stillness. Bright flashes of light, sometimes white, sometimes green, shot through the darkness surrounding the tiny cottage. Vile laughter could be heard, proudly emitted from evil throats.

Lord Voldemort, in all his insane glory, paced the exterior of the house, followed by a small, weak, ratty looking wizard. He looked more pleased with each cry of pain heard within.

"It is beautiful, is it not?" he remarked to Wormtail.

"Yes, my Lord," Wormtail replied shakily.

"But it is not good enough," Voldemort continued. "Weak, puny Muggles, so easily killed. The challenge is before us, Wormtail, and we will embrace it with open arms. The true, the grand, the undeniable return of Lord Voldemort."

"No one will be able to deny your power, my Lord," said Wormtail. 

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"Well, that was abrupt," said Harry, watching the door close behind Dumbledore's back.

"True," drawled Draco. "Wonder what the old git's up to?"

"Draco!" said Harry, exasperated. He looked at Draco, only to find Draco giving him an extremely sexy, if unconvincing, pouty look. Harry laughed.

"Think you're cute, do you?" he said.

"No, I think you're cute," Draco smirked at him. He was lying comfortably sprawled on Dumbledore's couch, one leg propped up against the back, hands behind his head.

"C'mere," he said, holding out his hand to Harry.

"There isn't enough room," Harry said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't," Draco promised.

Almost before he knew what he was doing, Harry found himself stretched out on top of Draco, trying to settle himself down gingerly so as not to hurt him. Draco gasped softly and closed his eyes momentarily.

"Am I too heavy?" said Harry anxiously. Draco hooked one calf behind Harry's knee. 

"You're going to have to learn the difference between the sound of pain and one of pleasure," Draco said.

"Oh?" said Harry. "And which was that?"

"I think you know," answered Draco. "Take this bloody thing off." He tugged at Harry's tie.

"Don't I even get a kiss first?" Harry teased. "I feel used."

Draco smirked at him again before brushing his lips across Harry's, light as a feather. He had barely pulled away before Harry dove in for another kiss, parting Draco's lips with his tongue. Draco allowed this soft penetration, trying to entice Harry further, mouth open and tongue sliding gently against Harry's.

A sound from the corner of the room brought Harry to a sitting position, blushing to the roots of his hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Ah, boys, there you are," said Professor Figg. "Professor Dumbledore asked me to come up and show you around, and also to apologize for having to leave you so quickly. His business was rather urgent."

Harry could have killed Draco, who didn't look the least bit ashamed of himself for being caught in such a compromising position. Indeed, he lay there looking extremely smug and self-satisfied, occasionally licking his lips as though he were trying to taste Harry's kisses again.

"Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Figg. "I think it best you go straight to bed and get some rest. Madame Pomphrey tells me you are still quite ill. Harry can give you a tour in the morning."

Harry and Professor Figg helped Draco up. Harry then supported Draco as they moved slowly down a short hallway and through the door at the end, into a small, rather plain bedroom. The bed hangings and two chairs in front of the marble fireplace were done in a muted, silvery grey colour. Several tall candelabra scattered about the room gave the only light, saving that of the greenish flames crackling gently in the fireplace. The only decoration appeared to be a painting over the fireplace, a perfectly ordinary study of the inside of a drawing room, odd only in the fact that there were no human subjects pictured.

Draco lay on the bed, grateful for its soft warmth. He still grew dizzy if he remained on his feet for too long. He closed his eyes.

"Come, Harry," said Professor Figg. "Draco, we'll leave you to your rest now." 

Figg led Harry from the room, closing the door behind her. "Harry," she began, "I have something to talk to you about, but you mustn't let Draco know about it." 

"I'm sorry, but you can't ask me to keep secrets from him," Harry replied.

Professor Figg sighed. "Well, you are nothing if not honest, I see. Can I ask you to wait until he is stronger?" Harry nodded. He wouldn't have Draco hurt again for the world. 

"Voldemort has been sighted again," she said. "That is why Professor Dumbledore had to leave. No, no, don't worry. You couldn't be in a safer place, and you have the added protection of my being your secret keeper."

"What about Ron and Hermione?" he said. "Where have they been sent?"

"To Ron's home," she said. "His parents have been informed of the situation, and his brothers Bill and Charlie have come home for the time being. Even Voldemort would think twice before trying anything at the home of three powerful wizards. He preys on the weak, remember. Don't worry about your friends."

"Draco, however, doesn't have the protection the three of you possess. That is why we allowed you two to stay here together, alone, so that the both of you could be guarded. The less people who know where you are, the better. There are spies in this school who would notice that he has disappeared, along with you. The Dark Lord and his followers, including Lucius Malfoy, may be looking for him. Yes, I know about Draco's father," she said in response to Harry's look of surprise.

"What can I do to help protect Draco?" Harry said fervently. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt him."

"I know you won't," she replied, laying one hand on his shoulder. "I am willing to become his secret-keeper also, but I need the consent of one of three people to do so. One, obviously, is Draco himself, but Albus and I don't think it wise to tell him of Voldemort's reemergence just yet. He may try to contact his father out of fear for him, and that communication could inadvertently fall into the wrong hands. Two, Draco's legal guardian. That's out of the question, of course. The third person I can ask for permission is you."

"Me?" said Harry. 

"Yes," said Professor Figg firmly. "You and Draco are not just in love, Harry. You have formed an attachment that runs deeper than any other, deeper than love, deeper than marriage, even. You cannot be parted except by death, and that makes you responsible for each other." She smiled at Harry. "You're very lucky. Most people go their whole lives without feeling love like this."

Harry gaped. It was a while before he found his voice again. "I don't suppose I can tell him about that, either?"

"He knows," she answered. "He's wearing the ring, remember? Besides, he has been witness to a bond like this all his life. His parents have it."

Harry thought about how different Draco had been since he'd been wearing the ring. Draco's affection had become so obvious. He didn't care who saw the two of them together, and he wasn't interested in hiding anything. Yes, Draco knew.

"Do whatever you need to do to protect him," he finally told Professor Figg. She nodded in agreement.

"Now, practical things. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, down the stairs to your right. The kitchen is through the parlour. The house elves will send your meals up there at the usual times, but if you need anything special, pull the bell rope by the window. DO NOT attempt to go through this door," she said, pointing to a door on his left. "It is accessible only by Professor Dumbledore, and I have it on good authority that anyone else passing through it will be turned into a pair of nice, fluffy bunny slippers." She appeared to be serious, so Harry didn't laugh, though he was sorely tempted.

"Is there any point me showing you where the other bedrooms are?" she asked, fixing him with a trenchant stare.

"No, not really," Harry mumbled.

"Good night then," she said, surprising him with a warm hug.

"Good night, Professor," he replied. She swept off toward the front door of Dumbledore's quarters, and Harry returned to the bedroom. Judging by Draco's recent behavior, he had almost expected him to be lounging seductively in bed, waiting. Instead, Draco was asleep on top of the covers, still dressed, one hand thrown over his eyes to shield them from the light. Harry took off Draco's shoes and then undressed himself, putting on his pajamas. He rummaged in a nearby wardrobe until he found an extra blanket to cover Draco with. He then went around the room, blowing candles out, before settling himself under the covers beside Draco. Draco turned over in his sleep and snuggled himself against Harry, burrowing his face into Harry's neck. Harry held him, staring into the dying embers of the fire, wishing he could stay there forever.

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Harry woke up early the next morning, starving. He savored the feeling of Draco in his arms for a few moments before hunger drove him out of bed. He gently disentangled himself and wandered out to the kitchen.

He found a tiny room with a wooden floor, in contrast to the stone floors found in the rest of the apartment. A mahogany and wrought iron table and chairs, old and scarred but beautifully polished, sat in the middle of the floor. Sunlight gleamed in through arched Gothic windows, recessed into the stone walls. 

Harry hurriedly downed several bacon sandwiches and meandered back to the bedroom, still munching on a piece of bacon, to check on Draco. He was still sleeping, so Harry decided to find the bathroom. He dug a pair of jeans and a sweater out of his trunk and went down the stairs at the other end of the hall.

Harry was expecting something akin to the Prefect's bathroom he had taken his Triwizard egg to last year. Instead he found a long narrow room with high ceilings, tiled with cool ceramic squares. Atrium doors lined the room on one side, letting in a view of a spectacular greenhouse garden. Red roses pressed themselves against the glass behind the tub, which was mostly shielded from view by a painted wooden screen. The roses made a startling contrast against the white porcelain.

Harry filled the claw-footed tub with water and climbed in, the water rising almost to his chin when he sat down. He lay back relaxing in the hot water and thinking about the things that Professor Figg told him last night, especially his life bond with Draco. He felt overwhelming love for Draco and fear at the same time. It was quite odd to have made a lifetime commitment without even knowing it, and he knew he'd have to talk to Draco about it and find out how he was feeling. Draco seemed to be dealing with it rather well, considering, but then he'd been used to the concept of a life bond, if not the actual fact of having one with Harry.

It was also painful for Harry to not tell Draco about Voldemort and the fact that Professor Figg was his secret keeper. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide his gnawing anxiety for long. Draco could practically read his mind as it was.

Footsteps overhead soon told Harry that Draco was up and about. He dried off and dressed quickly, running upstairs to find Draco sitting at the kitchen table enjoying his bacon and eggs.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Harry said.

"Good morning, sweetheart, I love you too," Draco answered, grinning sunnily at him.

"Seriously, love, how do you feel?" Harry answered, coming to sit beside him at the table.

"I feel lots better, actually," Draco said. "I was really hungry when I woke up this morning, for a change. Where have you been?"

"Downstairs, taking a bath," Harry said. 

"Without me?" Draco replied, raising his eyebrows. "Damn. You were naked and I missed it."

"Afraid so," said Harry, trying his best to conceal his embarrassment. Draco could say things like that with a straight face and then go right back to his breakfast, eating unconcernedly as though he'd said "Pass the salt". It was unnerving. That was nothing to Draco's next remark, however.

"I need a bath myself. Feel up to helping me?" Harry almost dropped the fork he had been playing with. 

"Huh?" he said.

"I said, love, do you feel like helping me with a bath? I don't know if I can manage those stairs by myself. Unless you want me to go about unbathed and unbrushed. That'd be sexy, it would."

"Uh, sure," said Harry. Draco smiled wickedly at him.

"You're cute when you're embarrassed," he said. "Don't worry. I won't corrupt your innocence further, at least not in the daylight."

Draco finished his breakfast while Harry went to sort through his trunk for some clothes. It had been strange packing his things for him, and it was stranger still picking something for him to wear. He found an old pair of jeans, soft and comfortable looking, and a loose knitted black sweater, but he was at a loss when it came to picking underwear. Finally he just grabbed the first pair he came to and returned to find Draco leaning against the doorway for support, waiting on him. 

He helped Draco down the stairs, bringing him to sit on the edge of the tub while he turned the taps on. Draco started unclasping the wrinkled robes he had slept in last night. 

Harry watched Draco remove his robes and the open necked white shirt and dark pants he wore underneath. He stood cautiously, now clad only in rather hedonistic green silk underwear.

Harry's mouth went dry. Draco was beautiful. Light gleamed off his pale skin, and his lean seeker's body was lithe with smooth muscle. Harry noticed a large bruise below Draco's right shoulder blade, and he smoothed his fingertips gently over it. Draco winced slightly.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," said Harry softly.

"It's alright, Harry, I'll be fine," Draco said.

"No, I mean it," Harry said. "You're hurt, and sick, and it's all my fault. I should kill Ron. He's going to apologize to you if I have to beat it from him."

Draco looked at him with shining eyes. "Weasley could apologize a million times, but you stayed here with me, and that means everything to me. What other people say or think doesn't matter." He looked at the steaming water. "Turn your back. I still have a shred of modesty where you're concerned."

Harry turned his back, listening to Draco slide into the water. 

"Alright, turn around," Draco said.

Harry returned to Draco's side, clearing off a small stool by the tub to sit on. Draco was laying back in the water with eyes closed, the heat making him feel weak again. Harry picked up a washcloth and soaped it, running it gently over Draco's shoulders and chest. Draco submitted to his attention, enjoying Harry's soothing touch. Neither said anything for a long time, feeling their bond in the silence around them.

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"You will please refrain from sickening displays of affection in my presence," Professor Snape said icily. Harry's hand strayed from its subtle progress toward Draco's. Draco only looked at Snape insolently and refused to remove himself from Harry's lap. Harry was sitting up on Dumbledore's couch and Draco was lying across him, head propped on the cushy arm of the sofa.

The two boys were having the first of their daily audiences with Professors Snape and McGonagall. Snape was thoroughly displeased to be there and obviously had managed to blame Harry for the situation. He swept out, robes flying behind him, as soon as he had delivered their homework. Professor McGonagall was extremely uncomfortable, and only stayed a little longer. She did try her best to reassure the two boys that they were safe, and that Professor Dumbledore would return soon.

She finally rose to leave, pulling a small handful of folded paper from her pocket and handing it to Harry. "Oh, Potter, here, these came for you today. From your friends, I imagine. When you write back, remember not to mention your, er, situation or your whereabouts."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said absently, barely noticing when she left. He shuffled the envelopes. The first was from Hermione. He recognized her tiny, cramped handwriting. The second was from Ron, and Harry's heart leapt when he saw it.

Draco rose up, leaning over to kiss Harry on the cheek. "I'm going to go lie down again. You come wake me up when you're ready to talk."

Harry nodded, grateful for Draco's empathy. Draco walked slowly out of the room, leaving Harry alone with his letters.

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	10. Rose and Moon

Now I Know What Love Is, Chapter 10-Rose and Moon

A voice spoke from the darkened corner of the room, a sinuous hiss. "We meet again. I fear that the circumstances are not as pleasant this time, as you well know. The last time we spoke, I believe I promised you something, hmmm? Power, my friend, wasn't it? Power in exchange for what paltry bit of information you could give me."

"I have done all I can for you, my Lord," said the wizard. "I have repaid."

"You can NEVER repay my debt," said Voldemort, flinging out his hand toward the other wizard. His arm shot up of his own accord, and the sleeve rolled itself back, revealing the Dark Mark burned like a brand into the wizard's arm. The wizard shuddered. He never looked at the Mark if he could help it. It brought back too many awful memories of the night it was given to him, pain like roaring thunder, him crouched on the ground in agony and Death Eaters crowded around him, telling him he was receiving a gift, to stand up like a man and thank the Dark Lord for what he had been given. He had never been one of the strong ones.

"You belong to me," Voldemort continued. "Bound with strict loyalty and slavish obedience." He leaned forward into the circle of light in the room, and the other wizard unconsciously backed away. It wasn't easy to stand under the scrutiny of those eyes. 

"You are so young," Voldemort sighed. "Who knows, you may yet be of some use. I shall have to teach you a lesson about keeping secrets from your Master, however." He snapped his fingers at the shadows in the corner of the room, and they began drifting away from the walls. They swooped down to the floor, flying across it and rising again in front of the wizard, becoming red-eyed images of evil.

"Everything serves the Dark Lord, everything and everyone," said Voldemort. "And those who fall short in my service feel my wrath."

__

"Punish him," Voldemort hissed at the shadows, and they began to bear down on the unfortunate young wizard. He screamed, begging the Dark Lord to let him go, be merciful, but there was no mercy in the creature watching his pain, or indeed anything else that could be called human emotion. Voldemort watched as the demons tortured the wizard with great cruelty, enjoying the display of anguish before him. He finally called off the demons and they receded into the shadows, becoming what they had been.

"You know your Master now," he told the crumpled heap on the floor. "You will live, and you will live to serve me."

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Harry walked into the bedroom, observed a sleeping Draco lying there peacefully, and took a running leap onto the bed. He landed beside Draco, almost knocking him off the bed in the process.

"I take it you've had good news then?" said Draco, rolling over and looking up at a grinning Harry.

"Very," Harry said. "Hermione and Ron are both fine. Hermione loves me and Ron said, and I quote, tell that foul, evil prat I'm sorry."

"You know, I think I'm starting to grow on him," Draco said. "He forgot the part about me being dead sexy and fabulously wealthy, though."

"And the part about you being in love with his best friend," Harry said helpfully.

"Oh yeah, that too," said Draco. "And speaking of love, what is this prattle about Granger loving you? Is this a friendship-type love or an I'm-going-to-have-to-put-a-curse-on-her type love?"

"Oh, friendship-type love, definitely. She and Ron have shared a mutual admiration society for years, but as neither of them seems willing to admit it, I guess they're just going to continue staring at each other longingly the rest of their lives."

"Oh, ugh, didn't want to know that," said Draco, pulling a disgusted face.

"Draco, those are my best friends we're talking about," said Harry.

"Sorry, love. But you can be sure they feel the same way when they think of us being together. So, now that you know they've not been attacked by the Dark Lord, do you think I can get a proper kiss for the first time today?"

Harry gaped at him. "Thought I didn't know, did you?" said Draco. He raised his left hand and wiggled his fingers in front of Harry's face. "See this? Your ring? Comes in handy, it does. I would have known something was up without it, though. I mean, you saw me almost naked and you were able to resist my charms. So, would you like to tell me what else you and Figg have got cooked up?"

"She's your secret-keeper now, as well as mine," Harry blurted out.

"That's all right then," said Draco complacently.

"You're not mad?" said Harry. "You know that means nobody can find us, nobody knows where we are, including your father, we're alone..." Harry quit talking, realizing the stupidity of what he'd just said.

"If Father thought I was in danger, he'd have me home in a second, and I'm not leaving you for anything," Draco replied. "Now, do you have anything else on your mind? If not, that kiss..."

Harry bit his lip. There was one final problem bothering him, and that was the bond he and Draco shared, the depth of the love they had for each other. Why hadn't Draco said something, if he knew?

"What's wrong, love?" Draco said concernedly. 

"Professor Figg told me something else while we were talking last night," he said. 

"What?" said Draco. "Tell me, don't pull away from me again." Harry looked into Draco's eyes, knowing what he'd find there. Nothing but love and concern.

"She told me.... she told me our... love for each other, that it wasn't, well, an ordinary sort of love, that it...ran deeper than most," he said. "And she also told me you knew about it. Why didn't you tell me?"

Draco looked stunned. "Why didn't I tell you? I thought you knew. Can't you feel it running between us?" Draco looked unseeingly at the ceiling, worriedly running his hands through his hair.

"Wait, wait, no, what are you talking about?"

"You don't know?" Draco said, amazed. 

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Harry said.

Draco was looking very pleased with himself, which was nothing unusual. "Tonight. Tonight, I'll show you. I'll show you... the moon."

"Draco, love, I've seen the moon," Harry said. "Please, do reassure me that you're not a werewolf."

"I'm not a werewolf," Draco said. "And I know you've seen the moon before, but you've never seen it with me."

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Harry followed Draco through the still, silent halls of Hogwarts. Draco still wouldn't tell him where they were going. He slipped in and out of shadows, silent on his feet as a cat, platinum hair occasionally illuminated in a beam of moonlight. They traveled a circuitous route, finally ending up at the entrance to Trelawney's classroom.

"You better not be taking me to visit Trelawney, Draco, that woman is a roaring lunatic, and any moon she's got is something I don't need to see."

"She's not here," Draco said, laughing at him. "She doesn't spend the night up here. She sneaks down every night to Flitwick's quarters."

"She WHAT?" Harry said. "You're not serious, you can't be."

"Most unfortunately, I am serious," Draco said. "I wish I wasn't." He grabbed hold of the silver rope ladder that had descended from the ceiling. "Come on, we're almost there."

The two boys ascended the rope ladder and made their way through Trelawney's classroom, stumbling over useless little chairs and low poufy chintz and velvet footstools scattered about everywhere. Draco walked behind Trelawney's desk and began tugging at the wall behind it. 

"Almost got it," he said. "Ah, here's the catch. Come help me with this." Harry joined him and together they slid the wooden panel upward, revealing a large window.

"Why is this covered up?" muttered Harry. "Lunatic, that woman. Raving."

Draco ignored him, climbing out the window onto a wide, flat, stone turret. He turned and reached for Harry, who was struggling through the window behind him.

"No, don't help me," Harry said. "You're the one who's hurt. You shouldn't even be doing this."

"You'll be glad we did," Draco replied. "Besides, you can make it up to me later." 

Draco walked to the middle of the turret, stopping to take off his cloak and spread it on the floor. He sat down on the edge of it and motioned for Harry to sit on the other side, across from him. He opened a small knapsack he had been carrying and began taking objects out of it.

"I didn't tell you about the bond," he began, "because I thought you knew. I figured we'd talk about it when you were ready. The bond between us, it manifests itself in a tangible way. It's tied in with our magic, and I can show you. Did you ever wonder where all that energy you use for magic comes from?"

"I guess I thought we were born with it," Harry said.

"No, you were born a channel for it. It's a bit different," Draco explained. "Magical energy resides in the air around us. It's like tiny particles of dust. What makes us different from Muggles is that we can take energy, consolidate it, and direct it through our wands."

Draco laid a small silver tablet down in between them. It had a square depression in the middle and was covered with magical inscriptions. "There are stronger, more powerful concentrations of magical energy, sort of like streams that run across the land. They're called ley lines, or spirit paths because they often run from graveyard to graveyard. Ghosts use them to travel back and forth from one place to another."

Draco held up a small pyramid-shaped object. "What's that?" Harry asked.

"It's a meetstone," Draco said. "Mine happens to be moonstone. They're similar to wands. They give you a focus for your magic."

He dropped the stone into the depression in the silver tablet, and set his wand into a hole drilled in its' top. "Put your hand over it," he said. Harry complied, and felt energy rushing up from the stone and from Draco's wand like an electric current. It was actually forcing his hand upward as a strong jet of water might do.

"Wow!" said Harry. "I've never felt anything like that before."

"It's especially strong up here. That's why I brought you up here to feel it. Pure magical energy."

Draco picked up the final object he'd brought with them. It was a beautiful, pure white rose.

"Where'd you get that?" 

"Dumbledore's greenhouse." Draco placed it carefully, stem down, above his wand. He let go and it hung there, suspended in midair. He cupped his hands around it, making a v shape on one side.

"Put your hands around the other side," Draco said. Harry complied, and the rose began revolving around slowly. As Harry watched, one petal detached, then another. They spun around the outside of the rose.

"He loves me, he loves me not," Draco said softly, smiling at Harry. "You try it."

Harry concentrated, feeling the energy shoot though his body. Another petal detached from the rose and began to spin around it with the others.

"He loves you," he said, smiling back at Draco. 

"I love you too," Draco said. He plucked the spinning rose and its petals from atop the wand, which was now surrounded by a glowing halo of light, a physical representation of the energy it had gathered.

"Hold your hands out above it," he said. Harry stretched his hands forward, palms out. Draco met them with his own hands.

"Feel this?" Draco said. Harry felt energy coursing through his body from Draco's hands, and then the wordless pulse of love. It traveled up his arms and into his body, filling him.

"Oh my god," Harry replied. "Is that...?"

"It's love, Harry, pure love," Draco said. He dropped his hands, standing up and going over to Harry, lying down across Harry's lap. "If you ever wondered what love was, now you know. You just felt it."

"What causes something like that to happen?"

"Ordinary wizards fall in love and get married and so on and so forth. There are a few of us that feel things more deeply. Maybe we're just a little more powerful than the others. It never happens to Muggleborns, that I know." Draco picked up Harry's hand and pressed his palm to Harry's. Harry could feel energy flowing into him again, like a conduit between their bodies.

"I can feel it now," he said. 

"You'll be able to feel me from now on," Draco said. "We are connected in ways beyond love." Harry let go of Draco's hand, reaching out to brush his knuckles along Draco's cheek. Draco closed his eyes and shivered.

"I can feel how much you love me every time you touch me now," Draco said. "God, I didn't know it was like this."

"You didn't?" said Harry. "I thought you knew all about it. Don't your parents have a bond like ours?"

"Well, I've never had one before, have I?" Draco said. "I've seen Mother and Father all my life, I knew about their bond, but I didn't know how it felt."

"What's it like for them?" Harry asked curiously.

"I don't know if I can describe it," Draco said. "After all, I never knew it was anything unusual, what they had." Draco looked up at the stars, remembering. "They are a part of each other. I remember when Mother's brother died, my Uncle Philippe, the last bit of family she had that would still speak to her. Father found out first, and when he came home to tell her... all he had to do was look at her, and she knew. She could feel the pain he was feeling for her, you see."

"How long have you known about our bond?" Harry asked, stroking Draco's hair gently.

"Not long. I could feel it yesterday, during the meeting with Dumbledore. When you sat down on my bed and I gave you my hand, I knew. You never pulled away from me, you held my hand the whole meeting. Even with Weasley giving you death-glares the whole time."

"You're right," Harry said slowly. "I didn't know that was the reason, though, I just knew I'd never lie to anyone about loving you again. I wanted to die when I saw you lying there on the floor bleeding, after Ron cursed you."

"Oh, Harry," Draco said, lines of worry crossing his face again. "There's something else you have to know, about magical love bonds. I hope you're ready for this, love. When one dies the other usually doesn't live very long after. Our energies will become so intermingled that if I died, for instance, I'd take a part of you with me."

"Oh, that's cheerful," Harry said. "I don't want to live without you anyway." The two boys sat in silence for a moment. Harry picked up Draco's hand again and absentmindedly started twirling the ring around on his finger.

"What happened between your mother and her family?" he asked suddenly. "You said a minute ago that she didn't speak to them."

"Side effect of loving a Malfoy," Draco answered. "People suddenly become suspicious of you. They start questioning your motives. Can't think why." He grinned up at Harry. "Know all those fans you've got, love? Kiss them goodbye. You might as well be in love with a dementor."

"Good," said Harry. "Maybe I'll be able to take a step now without Colin Creevy taking my picture." Draco burst into laughter.

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Harry sat in one of the grey chairs in front of the front of the fireplace, staring into the flames. He had one leg thrown over the arm of the chair and was resting on his elbow against the other. He had found that if he concentrated, he could feel the ley lines around the castle. There was an intensely strong one running through the middle of the Forbidden Forest and he was following it in his mind, trying to see where it led.

"It dead ends in a cave," Draco said, coming up behind him. He broke Harry's concentration for good by brushing the hair away from the back of his neck and placing a kiss there, at the top of Harry's spine. Harry rubbed his eyes with one hand. 

"How did you know about that window in Trelawney's classroom, anyway?"

"Flint," Draco said. " He took me up there third year, when he figured out I had the ability to feel the ley lines. It went down in the history books, one Slytherin doing something nice for another. Of course, he wanted to focus through me and use it to curse some little twit who'd turned him down for a snog."

"You can do that?" Harry said. "Never mind that, what exactly happened on that roof? Was this a male or female twit who'd turned him down?"

"Male," said Draco, and burst into laughter. "Don't worry, I wasn't his type. You, on the other hand..."

"I'm your type," Harry said, coming to lie on the bed beside Draco.

"As for the focusing thing, it can be done, but its dodgy. Mother and Father can do it. I seriously doubt it would have worked for Marcus and I even if we'd tried it. He ended up getting drunk on Sabre's Best gin and crying all night. Very annoying."

Draco sat up, swinging one leg over Harry and sitting on top of him. 

"Did you want something?" Harry said, grinning up at him.

"Hmmm, did I want something, let me see." Draco was giving Harry a rather predatory look. "Oh, I don't know. A kiss, maybe?"

"I don't know, love. It's awfully late," Harry said, putting his arms behind his head and stretching. "Wouldn't you rather, I don't know, go to sleep or something?"

"You're so funny," Draco said. "I think I'll keep you." He bent down toward Harry, biting his lower lip, sucking at it, finally kissing Harry, hard and thorough, as he had wanted to do all day. 

"All you have to do is touch me or kiss me and I lose my mind," Harry said. 

"That's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked.

"It's not fair," said Harry. 

"What's wrong, love? Don't you want me to kiss you anymore?" 

"What's wrong?!" Harry exclaimed. "You know I want you! You were right, I'm easy, god, and you know it. I think you like playing with me. Its some kind of game for you, you want to see how hot you can get me. You touch me and I melt, you kiss me and I'd do anything for you, I'd go down on my knees and beg for more." 

"Do you think I don't want you too? You think I like playing with you, is that it?" He leaned over and forced Harry's chin up, looking him in the eye. "Who's on their knees now then?" He took Harry's hand and kissed his palm, brushing his lips across it. Harry felt Draco's love and desire through Draco's kiss and knew how wrong he'd been.

"I touch you and kiss you all the time because _I can't help myself_. You have been my desire for five years. The first time I..." Draco looked away, embarrassed, unable to finish his sentence.

"The first time you what?" said Harry. He was breathing heavily, ragged, looking up at Draco. He slipped his hands under Draco's sweater, up Draco's back and back down, warm silky skin under his fingers. Draco arched against Harry's hands, moving his body, heat suffusing him. He couldn't stop now. He might as well try to stop the sun from rising. He leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear.

"The first, the very first fantasy I ever had, alone on my bed in the dorms, I was thinking about you," he said roughly. Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"Tell me, please," he begged.

"We had had another stupid argument that day," Draco said, lips brushing his earlobe. "I was lying there after everyone else was asleep, wishing we didn't have to fight all the time. Wishing I could tell you the truth. I started imagining that I was alone with you, telling you how I felt. I imagined you let me kiss you." Harry, unable to stop himself, began to place kisses along Draco's collarbone and up his neck, stopping to suck, feeling Draco's pulse beneath his lips. Draco whimpered unintelligibly. "Oh Harry, I feel that," he breathed. "I can feel you wanting me."

"Keep talking. I want to hear everything," Harry said, pausing just long enough to speak before returning his attention to Draco's pleasure.

"You-you want to hear the rest of it?" Draco gasped.

"Mmmm," Harry said in agreement, against Draco's skin.

"I thought about kissing you, for a long time. I imagined it how it would be...god Harry, that's so good, feels good...I'd never kissed anyone, but it was so nice in my dreams."

"How do you like it now?" asked Harry, pulling Draco down for a kiss. It almost burned, charged with feeling that ran back and forth between them like a wild fire. Draco licked Harry's lower lip and then slid his tongue into Harry's mouth. He broke the kiss and regarded Harry, who was looking up at him, eyes shining like a cat in the dark. 

"So much better than anything I could have imagined," Draco said. He pushed himself away from Harry, who gave him an extremely frustrated look.

"If its that good, where are you going?" he asked.

Draco rolled over onto his back. "I'm the sick one, remember? Come here." He lay back, staring at Harry, watching him crawl forward and ease himself down.

"You don't have to be so careful," Draco said. "You won't hurt me."

"I know," Harry said. "I could feel you wanting it, wanting me on top of you. I liked it. I wanted to make it last a little longer."

"Oh, I love that," Draco said. "Want to hear about the rest of my fantasy?"

"Without a doubt," Harry said. 

"We were kissing," Draco said, and began to move his lips over Harry's throat, biting and sucking. He was rougher than Harry had been with him, knowing, feeling that Harry liked it that way.

"Then, in my fantasy, you started taking off my clothes..." 

Harry interrupted Draco just long enough to pull off Draco's sweater, then his own. He settled back on top of Draco and gasped at the feeling of Draco's skin against his, Draco's hands on him, shoulders, back, anywhere he could reach. He licked and kissed his way down Draco's torso, teased back up over his ribcage and down the other side.

"You taste so good," Harry murmured against Draco's skin. He knew what Draco wanted, he could feel Draco's desire growing stronger the farther down he moved, but he wasn't giving in yet. He pulled at the waistband of Draco's jeans, sliding them down farther so he could nuzzle against Draco's hipbone. Draco almost shouted in frustration.

"You know what I want," Draco said.

"I know what you want," Harry agreed.

"Can I have it?" he pleaded.

"If you answer me one question," Harry said, undoing the top button of Draco's jeans.

"Yes, love, please, anything."

"Did you come?" Harry said, astonished at his own boldness. "In your fantasy?"

Draco laughed a little, breathless and amused. "That's not what you're asking, is it? You want to know if I-?"

"Yes," said Harry, interrupting.

"It was my first time for that too," Draco said. "I wanted it to be you so badly, I.." Harry ripped open Draco's jeans, pulling then down over his hips. "I wanted it to be you, touching me... I pretended you were touching me, making me feel all those things, making me... I said your name when I came, I'm surprised I didn't wake up every Slytherin in the dorm, but I couldn't help it."

Harry gave in, letting Draco have what his body was crying for. He enjoyed it more than he ever thought possible, loving the way Draco felt, how he tasted. He knew how Draco wanted it, fast or slow, rough or smooth. He knew Draco could feel him liking it, and he knew how much it added to his satisfaction. He could feel Draco's excitement building in him, and he knew it wouldn't last much longer. Draco was pleading with him wordlessly, _more, faster_.

Draco sat up, suddenly, pushing him over on his back, removing his remaining clothes with unbelievable speed.

"But you didn't..."

"Not without you," Draco said. "You're just as close as I am. I love it, don't get me wrong, you almost came just from the pleasure you were giving me and that's the sexiest thing I've ever heard of. But I want us to do this together."

Draco fitted his body against Harry's, rubbing against him, rocking his hips back and forth. He could feel Harry's excitement building in his own mind and in the way Harry moved under him, so close, and it sent him over the edge, and he took Harry with him. He felt as if he were falling, his body shocked with sensation, and came back to earth feeling Harry's love in every line of his body.

Draco kissed Harry once more, tasting himself in Harry's mouth, loving it. "I think a bath is in order now, don't you, love?" he said. "Think that tub will hold the both of us?"

"Absolutely," Harry replied.

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